And Then There Were None
by Iricelli
Summary: When an anonymous letter gathered ten people together for a party, they thought it would be fun. Little did they know that their short visit to Soldier Island wouldn't be as short as they expected, or as fun. Warnings: Contains AusHun, LietPol, GerIta, slight USUK (I think), gore, character deaths. (Seriously, this is based off a book where everyone dies, what do you expect?)
1. How It All Began

**Based off the book "And Then There Were None" by Agatha Christie.**

**Warnings: Contains non-explicit pairings (AusHun, LietPol, GerIta, slight USUK), gore, character deaths. Human AU. Everyone is a little OOC – they're here for a reason, you know. If you've read the book you'd probably know why.**

**I own neither And Then There Were None nor Hetalia.**

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_"Dear Gilbert,_

_Long time no see, old pal. I have missed you sorely, and I wish for you to grace me with your presence once more. I would be very much honoured if you were to accept my housewarming party invitation. There will be entertainment provided, and many of our other friends (like Roderich and Elizaveta) will be joining us as well."_

The address, date and time was written below.

Gilbert Beilschmidt raised his pale eyebrow. Who the heck was this person? Apparently the mysterious sender knew Roderich and Elizaveta as well, but Gilbert hasn't the slightest inkling about who he might be. It was strange. Still, he had met quite a number of people in his lifetime, and he could be just a passing acquaintance who was so taken-in by Gilbert's good humour that he had never forgotten him since.

It was totally plausible.

Gilbert read the letter once more. He was feeling charitable, and since this person enjoyed Gilbert's company, if this person wanted Gilbert to be there, he would be more than happy to oblige. At least someone was appreciating his awesome self.

-o-

_"Greetings, Basch._

_I hope you are faring well. I haven't heard from you since the last time we talked. Would you be agreeable to attend my housewarming party on the 12th of May? This would be a splendid opportunity for us to catch-up. Free food, drinks, lodging and anything else you may require will be provided."_

Basch Zwingli's hands shook at the last line. He had been cynical about this message from the start, especially since there was no sender's name, but that last line! How could he turn down such an attractive offer?

Written below were the details of the party.

Basch bit his bottom lip. There was absolutely no harm in going. He could protect himself darn well, and there would be everything he needed there. He wouldn't waste a single cent. Not knowing the person didn't even matter. Maybe he'd recognise him by the face. If he didn't, he could just nod and give grunts of agreement as the person spoke, like he completely understood what he was saying. All of this was a small price to pay – pardon the pun – for saving a few dollars.

That settled it. Basch was going on a little holiday.

-o-

"Roddy! There's mail!" Elizaveta Héderváry – now known as Elizaveta Edelstein – called, scampering into the house with a single brown envelope.

Roderich Edelstein looked up from his piano score. "I told you not to call me Roddy..." he chastised his wife gently. "Who's the mail for, and who's it from?"

Elizaveta turned the envelope over then flipped it back, confusion crossing her delicate features. "It's addressed to the both of us, but the sender isn't stated."

"Maybe it's written inside. Go on, read the letter," Roderich prompted.

Elizaveta dug her finger into one end of the envelope and tore a jagged line through it, then pulled out the neatly folded white paper inside. She unfolded it and began to read.

_"Dear Mr. and Mrs. Edelstein,_

_First of all, congratulations on getting married! I am deeply sorry for being unable to attend your wedding. To make up for it, would the happy couple like to celebrate in my new house? It has everything your heart desires. For Roderich, a room full of musical instruments, and for Elizaveta, a large shelf of _shounen-ai_."_

Roderich interrupted then. "What's _shounen-ai_?"

Elizaveta laughed guiltily. "It's nothing, dear Roddy. I'll continue reading."

_"All expenses will be covered by me. I'd be delighted if you could come."_

"After that is the details of the party," Elizaveta finished.

"Who is this? We must know this person, and possibly even invited him to our wedding ceremony. Why didn't he leave his name?" Roderich groused. He must've forgotten to jot his name down. Roderich could think of a few people who were just that air-headed.

"I think the question now is whether we will accept this invitation," Elizaveta said. "We'll find out who he is when we meet him."

She felt warm and bubbly. This sender was obviously well-off. The above-mentioned island was famous for its beautiful scenery, fresh air and clear waters. This trip would be like a second honeymoon, except with lots of third wheels about.

"That's true..." Roderich conceded, pushing his glasses up with his index finger. "Pack your bags, Elizaveta."

-o-

_"Hey, Feliciano!_

_I've missed you! How are you doing? Life's good on my side. I just bought a new house on an island."_

Feliciano Vargas' eyes skimmed the address, his smile widening.

_"It's so beautiful. I would love for you to come over on the 12th, at 5pm, where I'll be hosting a housewarming party! See you there!"_

Feliciano wasn't sure who this person was, but then again, he didn't have a superb memory. Maybe he had met this person a mere week ago. There had been a large event last week, and he had met so many people there; people whose names and faces he had forgotten by now.

Feliciano looked over the address again. He was more than willing to go visit his new friend. The house must certainly be stunning. Feliciano had heard of this house – it was a lone mansion on a tranquil island off the coast of England. His friend must be really rich.

Feliciano wandered to the kitchen to shove some pasta in his bag. He knew an Englishman who couldn't cook to save his life, and Feliciano was determined to step in and save the day with pasta.

Now... Tomato-based sauce or cream-based sauce?

-o-

Alfred F. Jones jittered in excitement. He had just received a letter describing a kickass mansion in the middle of the ocean where a huge party would be held. It sounded way too good to be true. Alfred needed to check it out with his local British snob.

Alfred picked up the phone and punched in his number.

"Hey, Artie!" Alfred exclaimed once the Englishman picked up the phone.

Arthur Kirkland held the phone away from his ear. Why did Alfred have to call? Arthur was having a good day, too.

"What?" Arthur snapped.

"Do you have a spooky mansion on some island in your country?" Alfred asked.

"Please, the entire country is made up of islands." Arthur rolled his eyes. He had been to Alfred's house once, and his "World Map" consisted of only one country – America. No wonder the git remained so ignorant.

"I'm serious! Is there an island a short distance away from Devon?"

"Wait..." This place sounded familiar. Arthur's eyes strayed to the sheet of paper strewn carelessly on the table. He snatched it up and scanned the letter once more. _Soldier Island... Devon... England..._

"I'm waiting," Alfred hollered.

"Wait some more!" Arthur yelled back. The gears in his mind turned rapidly. If Alfred wanted to know how to get there... Did it mean both of them had been invited to the same party?

Sounds of unseemly munching floated through the speakers in response.

"Alfred. Oi, wanker," Arthur barked. His own voice sounded strange to his ears. "Did you get invited to a bullshit party?"

"Bullshit?" Alfred sounded affronted – as affronted as he could sound with his mouth stuffed, anyway. "It's gonna be awesome!"

"You don't even know the bloke who sent the letter!" Arthur retorted. After Arthur had read the letter, he had snorted and tossed it aside. No way was he going to attend a shady party by some anonymous person.

Except... At least now he knew Alfred was going. If Alfred was going, maybe the sender was a mutual friend of theirs whom he had let slip from his memory.

Arthur swallowed. "I presume you are attending this obscure party, then?"

Alfred's enthusiastic reply of "Of course!" confirmed Arthur's decision to go.

-o-

_"To the esteemed Mr. Ludwig,_

_It has been a long time since we have contacted each other. I trust that you are doing well."_

"What is this shit..." Ludwig Beilschmidt muttered, his cold blue eyes roving the paragraph before him. This person seemed like he was bootlicking him, yet he hadn't a single clue who he was. And now said person was asking him to attend a housewarming party on the 12th of May, at 5pm.

_"Your brother has also been invited. I hope to see all of you there."_

"My brother?" Ludwig repeated with barely-concealed anger. If Gilbert went, he'd definitely have to go as damage control. But this also meant that the person knew Gilbert.

Ludwig examined the letter thoroughly once more. There wasn't even a shadow of a name anywhere. He grunted in disapproval at the unprofessionalism of the sender. Perhaps it was an accident. Judging by the writing, this letter had been hand-written, and it was easy to overlook something as trivial as a name when penning out tonnes of letters. Ludwig saw no harm in merely attending this party. It wasn't like he was going alone – Gilbert would be there.

-o-

"There's a letter for you, and one for me!" Feliks Łukasiewicz announced, planting a crumpled brown envelope into his boyfriend, Tolys Laurinaitis', hands.

"Oh?" Tolys peeled the seal of the letter away eagerly. Feliks had already ripped his letter open. The both of them began to read.

Their expressions changed into one of puzzlement as they read on, and soon they were scouring each square inch of the letter in search of the sender's name.

"Like, who is this?" Feliks demanded. "I totally won't go to a random stranger's party."

Tolys' graceful fingers traced the words. "The person was nice enough to invite us, it would be rude of us to reject."

"But we, like, don't know him!" Feliks protested.

"I'm sure we do. And I'm sure he knows us, or he would not have invited us." Tolys placed a reassuring hand on Feliks' shoulder. "Didn't you mention you want a holiday?"

"Yeah, I want one with you. Not some bustling party filled with unfamiliar faces." Feliks pouted.

"Hey, we get to stay for a week long. I'm sure we'll have time to spend some private time together. Wouldn't it be nice? On a remote island, surrounded by nature..." Tolys' voiced trailed off as he pictured the scene.

"I... Guess it would be pretty rad," Feliks conceded, his harlequin orbs flitting to the invitation. "You have to, like, help me pick out clothes! Come!" He gripped Tolys' wrist and dragged him towards his room.

-o-

The days rolled by, and the twelfth of May soon approached. The ten protagonists of the story did a final check of their baggage, then set off towards Devon. Their luggage wasn't the only things they had brought with them, though. Their ghastly past haunted their every step, and the guilt burdened them, weighing down upon their weary shoulders.

These ten people had been selected because of... _certain qualities_, shall we say?

Now, let the revenge begin.

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**Uh... Hi. :'D Terribly-written prologue is terrible. I can't do it as well as Agatha Christie. I have shamed her.**

**Marchen quote in the last line hahaha. *Shot* I don't even know anymore. T.T**

**I'm trying not to make this sound like a crack story but I keep lapsing into crack and I can't help it!**

**This is just the beginning. The actual chapters will be way longer.**

**Characters in the story:**

**Prussia – Gilbert Beilschmidt**

**Switzerland – Basch Zwingli**

**Hungary – Elizaveta Héderváry**

**Austria – Roderich Edelstein**

**North Italy – Feliciano Vargas**

**America – Alfred F. Jones**

**England – Arthur Kirkland**

**Germany – Ludwig Beilschmidt**

**Poland – Feliks Łukasiewicz**

**Lithuania – Tolys Laurinatis**


	2. Ten Little Soldier Boys

**I own neither And Then There Were None nor Hetalia.**

**Thank you to The Almighty Pyro for reviewing! :)**

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The sun, high overhead, stabbed Basch's eyes with its rays. He squinted in the relentless onslaught of late afternoon sunlight. He was standing by the beach, gazing out at the horizon. Soldier Island stood out against the gold-hued sky; a splotch of angular lines amidst the vast sky.

Basch turned away. The bangs falling short just above his eyes provided some shade, but not much. He grumbled inwardly about how costly sunglasses were and cast a longing glance at the extra pair of sunglasses hanging from another man's shirt.

The man had shoulder-length blonde hair, lightly tanned skin and a very slim build. His eyes were shrouded behind fancy sunglasses adorned with pink stick-on plastic gems. Basch was certain he would be really handsome... If not for the fact that he was wearing a plaid skirt.

He pulled his sunglasses down so they were hovering just above the tip of his lightly freckled nose, then his piercing green eyes were on Basch.

"Like, is there a problem?" the blonde man huffed.

The man next to him quickly grabbed his hands and murmured something. The blonde began to whine.

Basch decided he didn't like the blonde. Then again, Basch didn't like most people.

"H-Hi..."

The blonde's companion had spoken, his jade eyes on Basch. His chestnut hair was tied in a low ponytail, but a few strands in the front had come loose, framing his face. Basch gave him a disinterested stare – which wasn't really successful, considering the sunlight was still forcing his eyes into little slits. "Hello."

"A-Are you... Here f-for the party?"

Basch had no idea why the man stammered so much. "No, I merely enjoy standing here to sizzle in the sun," Basch snarled, then felt a twinge of guilt. It had been an innocent question which definitely did not call for such a snarky reply.

The pair had fallen silent.

Then the blonde proclaimed, "I totally don't like him."

"The feeling is mutual," Basch replied, frowning at the blonde.

"A-Ah! Please excuse Feliks..." His partner smiled uncertainly. "We're here for the party too. What's your name?"

"Basch." Basch decided he could put up with the brunette.

"It's nice to meet you, Basch. My name is Tolys." Tolys extended his hand.

Basch shook his hand reluctantly. "You have unusual names. You're not from around here, I presume."

"Ah... Yeah. Feliks and I come from Poland and Lithuania respectively," Tolys answered. "You don't sound local yourself."

"I'm from Switzerland," Basch responded, then chaotic yelling from the other end of the beach caught their attention.

"Get away from us, you creep!"

"Kesesese! Fancy meeting you and Specs here!"

"Brother, don't embarrass me."

"I wish to change my mind about attending this party now."

Their voices grew louder, and soon they were visible past the glare of the sun. There were three men and one woman. One of the men walked smartly, with his back straight and his broad shoulders thrown back. His neatly slicked-back gold hair gleamed in the light.

The man next to him was possibly an albino. He was wearing long pants, a hoodie with the hood thrown up over his head, and sunglasses. Not much could be seen of the man other than his huge grin and a little of his bleached hair. His arm was slung across another man slightly shorter than him.

The third man wore the most irritated expression and the fanciest clothes; a double-breasted jacket with a cravat tucked into the front. His highly polished buttons reflected the glaring sunlight. On his feet was a shiny pair of shoes, now soiled by the sand.

Linking arms with him was the female. Her long tawny hair cascaded beautifully down her back and some strands went over her shoulders, and she had a flower in her hair. Her sundress was simple but classy.

"Aren't they, like, sweltering in those clothes?" Feliks muttered.

"Hey!" the woman called, waving her arm. "Are you here for the party?"

"Yes," Basch called back.

"Awesome!" the pale-haired man bounded over. "Hey, nice to meet you, even though I'm not sure if you'll be nice. My name's Gilbert."

"Hi, Gilbert," Tolys said. Feliks had frozen next to Tolys, and though his eyes couldn't be seen, Basch could tell his eyes were wide in fear.

"What's wrong with him?" Basch asked.

Tolys' emerald eyes met Basch's. "Feliks gets awfully shy around strangers," Tolys explained.

The woman flounced over excitedly. "Hello there! What's your name? My name is Elizaveta."

"F-F-Fe...l-liks..." Feliks stammered, digging his nails into Tolys' arm.

"I-I'm Tolys. It's a pleasure to meet you," Tolys replied, attempting to unhook Feliks' fingers.

"Aww, you're so cute!" Elizaveta pinched Feliks' cheeks, igniting a indignant splutter from him. "This is my husband, Roderich," she continued, yanking on the arm of the well-dressed man.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Roderich stated stiffly, extracting his arm from Elizaveta's grasp.

"Everyone here is gathered for the party?" the large blonde man with the hard azure eyes questioned.

"Yes." Basch felt tired of repeating himself.

"I see. I'm Ludwig," he introduced in a deep baritone voice.

"I'm Basch," Basch replied. He picked up on the newcomers' German-sounding accents.

"You kids here for the party?" someone drawled. Everyone whipped around, startled.

There was a lone man sitting on a rickety boat, his calloused leg propped up on the benches that ran along the length of the boat. His jaw moved constantly as if he was chewing.

"Yes, how did you know?" Ludwig queried.

"I'm the one who's supposed to row you over to Soldier Island. Some guy called me over here to fetch his guests over," the boatsman responded.

"Ah, that must be our host," Roderich piped up, plodding towards the boat. He jerked a thumb in the direction of Soldier Island. "Do you know who the man who called for you?"

"Nah, but that fellow's got to be bloody rich."

"Yeah..." Basch mumbled wistfully.

Everyone else marvelled at the outline of the grand mansion atop the island. Certainly, the man must be loaded. This only made them all the more curious to know who he was.

The boatsman broke the awe-filled hypnosis. "So, do you want to go over now?"

Roderich shook himself out of his stupefaction. He couldn't deny that he was indeed envious. "Yes, I would. Come along, Elizaveta," Roderich instructed.

Elizaveta strolled to his side. "The boat's small," she observed.

"It'll only fit five people at a time, excluding me," the boatsman replied. "So you'll have to decide among yourselves who goes first."

Looks were exchanged.

"We'd like to go first," Roderich finally declared. "Elizaveta and I."

"Then I'll come along!" Gilbert exclaimed, a large grin on his face.

The boatsman helped each of them into the boat, even as Elizaveta muttered angrily under her breath.

Ludwig appraised Basch, Feliks and Tolys. "Do you want to go first?"

Tolys and Feliks turned to each other, then Tolys spoke, "I-If you don't mind..."

"It's no problem," Ludwig answered automatically. Basch nodded his assent.

"T-Thank you very much!" Tolys said, gathering his luggage. Feliks hung onto his arm. He stepped into the boat, Feliks crying out in terror as the boat swayed. Then Tolys stumbled towards the bench, Feliks getting dragged along, and all of them managed to settle down comfortably.

Basch glanced at the man who now stood beside him. His large form shielded a lot of the sunlight from him, for which he was thankful for.

"It's weird, isn't it?" Ludwig voiced after a long period of silence. The pair had been staring out into the sea. The sunlight threw dappled rays across its surface, so each wave had a silver hood. The waves swished lightly as they broke onto the beach, and the water was so clear, every grain of sand beneath the shallow water could be seen.

Basch's head whipped around when Ludwig spoke suddenly.

Ludwig went on, "I can't believe I actually accepted such a suspicious invitation."

"Yeah... Me neither. I'm only coming for the free things," Basch admitted guiltily.

_And I came because of Gilbert,_ Ludwig thought.

Every detail of it was engraved into Ludwig's mind. _Gilbert came home one day badly injured; a blackened eye, a split lip, bruises all over his body and a limp. Ludwig had grilled Gilbert for details, but Gilbert kept absolutely mum. That was when Ludwig took matters into his own hands and did a little... Well, stalking._

_He crept out of the house after Gilbert, then followed him down the street. It might've been his imagination, but Gilbert seemed... Scared. Fear was unusual for his overconfident older brother._

_Gilbert pulled a phone out and fiddled with it, placing it to his ear and chewing his bottom lip. Ludwig had sneaked into one of the nearby bushes to avoid detection. Gilbert scanned the area every so often, still making those erratic, restless actions, like compulsively checking his phone._

_That was when there was a yell._

_Gilbert took off like the wind, about half a dozen black-clad men pouring out of the alley after him. Ludwig burst out of his hiding spot and followed them._

_The men had caught up to Gilbert and pinned him down onto the floor. The man straddling Gilbert raised his fist. It collided with Gilbert's cheek with a dull thump. Gilbert stared back defiantly, earning him another punch._

_Ludwig had seen enough. These bastards were pummelling his brother! Ludwig pulled out the gun tucked into his holster – just an ordinary policeman's standard order – and fired six rounds straight into the backs of the unsuspecting men. The men dropped like rocks. Ludwig yanked his brother up and both of them fled the scene._

"I came because of my brother. He'd most likely get himself killed if he came by himself," Ludwig finally revealed. Basch would never know how true those words were.

The wind blew then, bringing along the scent of sea salt with it. Basch shivered, unsure of whether it was from the chill of the wind, or Ludwig's foreboding words.

-o-

Feliks clutched the seat, panic – and something else – rising in his throat. He felt like he needed to hurl. Only Tolys' hand against his skin reassured him.

"So, are you gay?" Gilbert inquired the moment the boat set sail.

"Gilbert!" Roderich and Elizaveta chided simultaneously, though both of them were rather curious as well.

Gilbert shrugged. "They look gay. Especially that one." He pointed to Feliks.

Tolys had gone white, while Feliks was green.

"You scared the poor boys!" Elizaveta shouted, then turned to Feliks. "Hey, I'm sorry, Gilbert here is an insensitive jerk. You don't have to answer that question."

"I-It's okay," Tolys choked out. "I... Um, y-yes..."

"Hey! He admitted it!" Gilbert crowed.

Roderich rolled his large violet eyes. "So what if they are homosexual, Gilbert?"

Feliks decided it was the perfect time to chuck all over Gilbert.

"_HEY!_" Gilbert yelled, flinching away from the projectile vomit.

Tolys reacted immediately. "Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!" He wrapped an arm around the heaving boy's back, murmuring consoling words to him.

Gilbert seethed. "These are my awesome clothes!"

Roderich couldn't help the smile creeping onto his face. "You'd probably end up looking and smelling like this by the end of today, anyway."

"You kids are going to have to clean up this revolting mess!" the boatsman hollered.

"Certainly!" Elizaveta assured him, stroking Feliks' back in downward motions. Feliks twisted about so now he was facing the sea, then continued to retch.

"I'm most curious to know who the host of this party is," Roderich remarked.

"Kesesese! I bet he likes me most!" Gilbert bragged, the mess on his clothes forgotten for now.

Elizaveta muttered, "No one has such bad judgement."

"What was that, Lizzie?" Gilbert asked tauntingly.

She flashed him a saccharine smile. "Nothing, asshole."

A tense silence settled over them, broken only by the swishing of oars across the water and the cawing of birds as they flew over them. Feliks had regained some colour in his cheeks, and Tolys was busy mopping the floor of the boat with his limitless supply of tissue.

Roderich eyed Feliks. That boy was rather strange, and he didn't speak much. Roderich had caught a glimpse of Feliks' eyes when his garish sunglasses had slipped down his face. He thought Feliks looked like a stereotypical undercover agent – well, if he ditched the girly clothes.

The truth was, Feliks resembled one of Roderich's students, one whom he did not want to be reminded of. That particular student had been far too intelligent for her own good, and Roderich had secretly felt like he was getting usurped by the six-year old with the green gemstone eyes and knowing smile.

_Roderich couldn't tolerate this. He set out to crush her, to eliminate any possible challenge to his title as a musical prodigy._

_She had been destroyed. Like Roderich said, she was way beyond her years. She even knew methods of suicide._

The imposing structure of the mansion on Soldier Island was coming nearer. Its face was shrouded in shadow as the sun was behind it.

The boat drifted onto the sandy shores of Soldier Island. It rocked with each wave that crashed into it. Tolys stood up, soggy wads of tissue cradled in his arms. He looked rather sick himself now.

"Come, Feliks, Tolys," Elizaveta cooed, stepping off the boat gracefully. Her feet sank into the damp sand, but the sand was soon washed away by a wave that swept over her feet. She reached out to help the both of them get off the boat.

Gilbert stepped forward. Elizaveta narrowed her eyes. "You can come down by yourself," she snapped, grasping Roderich's outstretched hand and steadying him as he stepped off.

"Keh! You're so biased," Gilbert whinged, jumping off the boat easily.

"I'll go back to ferry your other friends over," the boatsman informed them, already back-pedalling away from the island.

Gilbert gazed at the grand mansion looming above him. "Since we're here, why don't we go in first?"

"Y-Yeah, I need a dustbin," Tolys agreed with a faint smile.

Roderich took the lead, moving towards a large staircase. The other four followed him. Roderich was out of breath by the time they had reached the top of the stairs. Those were probably the longest stairs he had ever climbed in his life. He reprimanded himself inwardly for never getting any exercise.

Now that they were on the same level as the mansion, they realised it wasn't as large as it had appeared. Most of its height was made up of the hill. The mansion was wide, but only two stories high, tops.

Roderich moved towards the door and rapped on it twice.

There was no reply.

Roderich rapped again.

"Maybe they can't hear you over the sounds of their preparations," Elizaveta suggested. "Why don't we try going in?"

"That seems rather improper..." Roderich pointed out reluctantly.

"Aw, come on! They're expecting us anyway!" Elizaveta pushed Roderich aside lightly and tugged on the door handle.

The door opened to an ornately decorated main hall. Streamers and banners hung from the ceiling, and letters spelling out the word "Welcome" were stuck on the wall.

"Awesome!" Gilbert enthused, lifting his foot to step inside.

Elizaveta held him back with one hand. "Wait. The place looks empty."

"If it's a surprise, it totally failed," Feliks mumbled.

"Should we go in, then?" Tolys questioned, looking around at the nervous faces around him.

"I... Think we best wait for the others," Roderich conceded.

"Hah! Is sissy-boy scared?" Gilbert mocked.

"It's always better to be safe than sorry," Roderich said defensively. Elizaveta nodded, slipping her hand under Roderich's arm.

"Could I go in to dispose of these first?" Tolys requested timidly, twitching his hand a little to gesture at the pile of used tissue in his arms.

"Sure. We'll be right here!" Elizaveta said, holding open the door.

"Thank you!" Tolys stepped in and scanned the room, then headed towards the dustbin placed in a corner.

Gilbert poked his head through the door to take in the surroundings. "I wonder who this rich-arse is."

-o-

Two more people had joined them. Their nationality was too painfully obvious by their mannerisms. There was an American who constantly poked fun at the Briton, and the Briton would fling British insults at the American.

Such friendship.

It reminded him of the time he had been out with his best friend. _They had gone a little overboard with the wine, and both of them were absolutely wasted by the time they stumbled to their car. Their decision to drive was foolhardy, but they had no other choice. They didn't want to spend their nights slumped over in the streets._

_Basch could barely get the key into the ignition, but he managed it eventually after a lot of jeers from his friend. He wrapped his clammy palm around the gear and thrust it to the driving position, stomped on the accelerator and gripped the steering wheel._

_Spots danced before Basch's eyes. Every car that passed them had blazing headlights that burst like a fireworks display at the back of Basch's mind. He couldn't see the streets before him well, but the most he could try to do was avoid slamming into any of the colourful beams of red and white lights._

_They left the city area. It had been terribly noisy. Everywhere they went, horns blared ceaselessly. Basch was relieved to find himself on a rural path where the traffic was less heavy and the choir of crickets were his companions._

_"Your driving sucks! Even my grandma could drive faster than you!" his friend complained, leaning over to wrestle the steering wheel away from Basch's grip._

_"Hey, don't do that," Basch slurred, batting his hands away feebly. His friend, though, seized control of the wheel and got it to turn in his favour._

_Which meant the car went spiralling towards the left, crashing right into a tree._

_The impact rocked the both of them. Their heads smacked the dashboard violently. At least for Basch, the airbag decided to expand at that exact moment, cushioning him from the worst of the concussions._

_His friend, though, wasn't as lucky._

The bitter memories opened up a fresh wound within Basch, and his hand flew up to his shoulder to touch the scar there unwittingly. He needed something to distract him from the pain. He turned his attention towards the newcomers.

"So... Are you two friends?" Basch inquired, then he wanted to kick himself. _Of course not, because it's completely normal for two strangers to tease each other like that._

"Friends? Nah, Artie's more like a grandfather. He's even got the nagging thing down for him," the more boisterous one quipped.

"Don't call me _'Artie'_, you git," 'Artie' growled.

"What are your names? My name is Ludwig. Nice to meet you," Ludwig drawled. His voice was more controlled than Basch's could ever hope to be.

"I'm Alfred! I'm the hero! And the tea-guzzling prick with the thick eyebrows is Artie." Alfred's aqua eyes sparked with good humour.

"_Arthur,_" 'Artie' corrected, his green eyes flashing angrily.

"Um... Hi. I'm Basch," Basch said. He didn't like these people as well.

"So... What are we waiting for now?" Alfred asked obliviously, panning the area.

"We're waiting for the boat to come back and fetch us there," Arthur told his friend with suppressed irritation.

Alfred's eyes lit up. "I hope they serve hamburgers at the party."

"This party is going to be a headache," Ludwig muttered, soft enough for only Basch to hear.

Basch replied, "We're surrounded by idiots."

"Indeed," the German agreed with a sigh. Basch decided he could deal with Ludwig.

The faint slosh of water brought their attention back to the sea. The boat was returning. It was already quite late; the sun was a glowing orb behind the boat, dipping into the horizon. The sight of the boat, with orange shadows cast across it, and the rippling reflections on the water made the entire scene so surreal.

"So, it's just the lot of you left?" the boatsman queried. "Hm... But the man told me there'd be ten people."

"There's only four of us here now, unless you see someone else." Basch lifted a blonde eyebrow.

Alfred squeaked, "A-A g-ghost?"

"There are no ghosts, idiot!" Arthur scowled.

_"Ve!"_

"Did you hear that?!" Alfred exclaimed, squeezing Arthur's arm in fear.

"I heard nothing," Arthur alleged, turning up his nose at Alfred.

_"Ve!"_

"I s-swear i-it's r-real!" Alfred squealed, ducking behind Arthur.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Arthur shouted, dislodging Alfred's hand and storming towards the boat, "Let's just get into the boat and go."

Arthur and Alfred got into the boat, Alfred's eyes squeezed shut and his hands clamped over his ears. Ludwig went next. The boat shook when he entered. Basch stepped in last, turning his head in the direction of the strange noises.

Then he saw it.

A human barrelling right towards them.

"Wait for me!" the auburn-haired male cried, pushing himself to go faster, but his feet got caught behind a rock and he went sprawling. He climbed up instantly and continued racing towards the boat.

"Are you here for the party?" the boatsman yelled.

"Yes!" the newcomer panted, reaching the boat and clutching the edges to hold himself up. He took gulping breaths before speaking again. "Hi! My name is Feliciano. I like pasta and pizza, and I hope we can be friends!"

"Hi! I like those foods too!" Alfred called back.

Feliciano's hazel gaze fixated on Alfred. "Really? I have some pasta here, we could share..."

Ludwig cleared his throat. "The sun is setting. We need to get a move on."

"Oh, yes!" Feliciano clambered clumsily into the boat, then ferreted about in his bag for his lunchbox.

The boatsman thrust the oars against the water, kick-starting the boat's movement.

"I don't know all your names yet. Who are you?" Feliciano questioned, digging his fork into the pasta.

"Alfred." Alfred gestured to himself first, then his finger travelled to Arthur. "Artie."

"You hopeless wanker," Arthur groaned. "My name is _Arthur_."

"Ludwig," Ludwig stated brusquely.

"Basch," Basch said.

Feliciano beamed. "Ah, so many people! Hello, hello!"

"Hi," they mumbled back with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Alfred, of course, cinched the first place.

"This is some fine pasta!" Alfred proclaimed.

"Swallow your food before speaking!" Arthur scolded.

"Sure, gramps!" Alfred exulted through bits of pasta.

Arthur buried his head in his hands. "Where did I go wrong raising this child?" he moaned.

"You're his father?" Basch asked out of curiosity. Arthur didn't look much older than Alfred.

"No, I'm just someone who has to put up with this git, but you know, he's so immature, I find myself filling in as a parent," Arthur divulged.

Alfred set his fork down. "Hahaha! I don't need your care!"

Something passed through Arthur's eyes then, something akin to sadness and anger. "Fine, deal with your own problems from now on!" Arthur snapped.

Feliciano nudged Arthur, then thrust a box of pasta under his nose. "Pasta," Feliciano murmured sweetly.

Arthur accepted the box with mumbled thanks.

"Could I have some of that pasta too?" the boatsman piped up.

Feliciano sprang up. "Of course!" He dropped a box into the boatsman's lap eagerly.

"Thanks, kid." The boatsman gave him a crooked smile.

"You're welcome!" Feliciano's gaze swept over the two other occupants on the boat. "Do you want some pasta?"

"No, thank you," Basch refused politely. He was saving his stomach for the feast later.

Ludwig turned down Feliciano's offer as well. Feliciano seemed a little disappointed, but he sat down opposite them to consume his pasta wordlessly.

The lively brunette looked up from his pasta after a while. "Oh! The island!"

Everyone turned to look. Only a semicircle of sun was visible now, and it dyed the entire island in warm vermillion hues.

"It's almost five," Ludwig announced. "We're just on time."

The silhouettes of the others who had arrived on the island earlier stuck out like sore thumbs.

"More guests!" Feliciano cheered.

The boat washed onto the shore, and the others stepped forward to help them out of the boat.

"New faces!" Elizaveta chirped. A round of introductions was exchanged, with Roderich growing more displeased and Feliks getting more nervous. Then the group of ten approached the mansion.

"It's oddly quiet for a party," Arthur noted.

"Yeah, where's the booming music?" Alfred chimed in. For once, Arthur did not disagree with Alfred.

"I-It was like that w-when we first came here," Tolys explained with a wary smile.

"Huh. This could be the kind of party I'd like," Basch said, walking up the stairs.

"We should all go in together," Roderich declared.

They trooped up the stairs and gathered around the door. Their eyes were wide in anticipation – no, fear.

Basch rolled his eyes. "It's just a house!"

"B-But it's c-creepy," Alfred whimpered.

"We're all together, okay? If you're scared you can ask someone to accompany you to wherever you want to go." Ludwig had to refrain from palming his face.

"You wimp," Arthur scoffed.

Feliks held onto Tolys' arm tightly. "You won't, like, abandon me, right?"

Tolys ruffled Feliks' matted hair. "Never."

His words seemed to calm Feliks down, and the both of them trailed after the group. Feliks removed his sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his shirt, bringing the total count of sunglasses hanging on his shirt to two. His shirt sagged with the added weight, and the fact that it was a V-neck shirt didn't help matters.

Basch went in first, followed by Ludwig, then the married couple and Gilbert. Feliciano was skipping near Feliks and Tolys, and Alfred and Arthur brought up the rear.

The room was still as when the first group had last seen it. The lights were on, the table set with pastries wrapped in cling-wrap, and small fires burned gaily below the buffet display.

"Food!" Alfred exclaimed, running forward. "So much food!"

"Fat arse," Arthur muttered under his breath, but his breath hitched when he caught sight of the sachets of Earl Grey tea.

"Where's the host?" Gilbert cried.

"Is a surprise awaiting us?" Elizaveta added, her dainty hands balling up in excitement.

The light flickered twice then went out entirely. Gasps sounded from various corners of the room, and distinct wails from Feliciano and Alfred and Feliks could be heard.

Then the lights snapped back on. Everyone blinked at each other in confusion. No one had moved from their original spot except Feliciano, who had begun to run about in his panic. Now he was hugging a disgruntled Gilbert.

"Look!" Tolys pointed to a piece of paper fluttering towards the ground. His eyes traced a path towards the ceiling. "Where did this come from?"

"What does it say?" Ludwig prodded.

Roderich was the closest to the note, so he picked it up and examined its contents.

His mauve eyes bulged and his sylphlike fingers tightened around the paper, causing the edges to crinkle.

"What is it?" Elizaveta hurried to her husband's side worriedly, scanning the note, then her hand flew to her lips as she inhaled sharply.

"Read it out loud!" Alfred prompted.

"N-No..." Roderich fumbled his way to a plush seat and sank down heavily onto it.

Elizaveta grasped the note, crumpling it in her fist. "This is utter nonsense!"

"What does it say?" Gilbert pressed.

"Read it if you want to know so badly," Elizaveta gritted, tossing the crumpled ball of paper to Gilbert.

Gilbert caught it expertly and smoothened out the note. Everyone else crowded around him. They began to read.

_Ten little soldier boys out on a day so fine_  
_One took a sip of wine and then there were nine_

_Nine little soldier boys clueless about their fate_  
_One went out on a date and then there were eight_

_Eight little soldier boys with innocence unproven_  
_One went to heaven and then there were seven_

_Seven little soldier boys in quite a fix_  
_One tried to pull his tricks and then there were six_

_Six little soldier boys determined to survive_  
_One messed with the wrong hive and then there were five_

_Five little soldier boys frightened to the core_  
_One pushed open a door and then there were four_

_Four little soldier boys made a decree_  
_One got overwhelmed with glee and then there were three_

_Three little soldier boys feeling very blue_  
_One discovered a clue and then there were two_

_Two little soldier boys on the run_  
_One pulled out a gun and there there was one_

_One little soldier boy stood in the sun_  
_He couldn't stand being alone and then there were none_

* * *

**This is not the original poem in the actual book.**

**Is the murderer obvious? I have no idea. It seems obvious to me because I'm writing the story and I already know how it'll end, but I would love to hear your views! :)**


	3. Nine Little Soldier Boys

**I own neither And Then There Were None nor Hetalia.**

* * *

The silence settled over them like a blanket, smothering them. Their breathing felt laboured.

"Ten..." Ludwig breathed. "There are ten of us here..."

"It's some kind of prophecy!" Arthur intoned.

Alfred blurted, "This h-house is d-definitely haunted!"

"It's just a nursery rhyme!" Basch snapped. "Look, I think it fell from here. So let's just put it back." Basch moved towards the wall where Roderich had been standing, and sure enough, there was a small wooden frame hanging on the wall.

"Ten of us... Ten soldiers... Soldier Island..." Alfred chanted those words as if in a trance.

"Calm down! So the lights went out for a second and a sheet of paper came loose. No need to get your panties in a twist," Basch yelled.

"Yeah, I remember hearing something similar when I was younger," Elizaveta vouched in a quivering voice. She would never forget the exact room she had seen this poem in.

It was in the room of the child whom she was babysitting. It concerned ten soldier boys and how they left each other one by one.

_It was her first day at work, and her employer had told her to familiarise herself with the house right before him and his wife left. Elizaveta went straight for the room with bubble stickers on it, guessing that it was her charge's room._

_She went in, startling the little boy. He was no older than five or six._

_"Oh, sorry," she told him. "Hello, my name is Liz, and I'll be your babysitter for this month while your parents are away."_

_He tossed a soldier at her. The soldier was wielding a toy sword, and the sharp point of the sword nicked her skin. Elizaveta gritted her teeth to prevent herself from spouting some rude words at the boy. Instead, she stood up and walked over to the drawer._

_There was a single frame on it, and inside the frame was a long poem._

_"Wow, what a nice poem!" Elizaveta commented in a falsely high voice._

_The little boy nodded impassively. "I like soldiers."_

I'm sure you do,_ Elizaveta replied sourly._

"I'm still scared!" Feliciano tottered towards Ludwig and wrapped his skinny arms around the German's torso.

"Don't touch me!" Ludwig bellowed. Feliciano sprang away, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I mean... Men don't hug other men! And I only just met you! But you can... Hold my hand." Ludwig amended hesitantly, not liking the dejected look on the Italian's face. He offered his slightly his calloused palm to Feliciano.

Feliciano brightened and gripped his hand tightly. "Ve! Thank you, Ludwig!"

"Luddy's got himself a boyfriend, Luddy's got—" Gilbert's shout was cut short by a large fist smashing into his cheek.

Basch finished replacing the poem where it belonged, and he turned around, his lips downturned in a scowl. "Let's hope the lights won't go out any more. Should we tuck in first?"

"I-Is the host not coming?" Tolys voiced.

Murmurs rippled across the room. Everyone was admittedly hungry, and the food did smell tantalising...

"We should eat! What a feast!" Alfred exclaimed, lifting up the covers of the buffet spread. There was food from all over the globe, including German cuisine which stirred something within Alfred.

_Alfred had always been quite the glutton, he wouldn't deny that. He had been gluttonous enough to accept a bribe._

_Alfred was walking home from court one day. He had just finished a case of a man who got beaten to death. /Gangs,/ he lamented._

_The case remained inconclusive, as they had never found the perpetrators. Alfred reached up to pat the mop of white hair seated atop his head (Alfred was told that donning the wig wasn't necessary, but he wanted to wear it for tradition's sake). That's when he heard six clear gunshots piercing the silence in the evening sky._

_Alfred remembered the blonde man and his companion, whose face was coated in blood. They had ran away, but not before one of them implored, "Please don't tell, I'll do anything!"_

_Alfred had jokingly called back, "I like food!"_

_As fate would have it, the siblings showed up a few days later in court. Garbed in black robes and the white woolly wig, Alfred slid into his seat and eyed the neatly dressed blonde man with not a strand of hair out of place and the clearest blue eyes imaginable. In a loud voice, Alfred asked:_

_"What do you have to say in your defence?"_

_"I was protecting my brother," the blonde man stated calmly._

_"Anything else?"_

_"Unlimited supply of wurst."_

_Those words had made no sense to the rest of the spectators and panel of judges, but Alfred knew exactly what he meant._

_Alfred took the bait. He succumbed to his whims._

_"I hereby proclaim so-and-so not guilty..."_

_His name still eluded Alfred. It was a long, difficult-to-pronounce name._

The guests clapped happily, their worries about the poem vanquished. There were plastic plates stacked up on the side of each table, along with cups and cutlery. They helped themselves to whatever they desired.

Alfred filled his plate with fried chicken, while Arthur took a tentative bite out of a scone.

"I-It's not much better than my scone!" Arthur defended when he noticed Alfred's teasing ocean-blue eyes on him.

Roderich went straight for the cakes. Elizaveta held two plates, spooning a variety of dishes onto each plate. Gilbert sidled up next to her. "Is that for me? How sweet," he crooned, snatching one of the plates away.

"You jerk! That's for Roderich!" Elizaveta shrieked, slapping Gilbert with her now-empty hand.

"Brother, give that back," Ludwig ordered sternly, putting down his fork with a potato impaled on the end of it.

Gilbert sighed, handing the plate back to Elizaveta. "You're no fun."

"You don't deserve it," Elizaveta retorted, spinning on her heel and stalking towards Roderich. She leaned down to peck him on the cheek, to which Roderich flushed and backed away.

Feliciano was ecstatic. There was an entire row of pasta, from Aglio E Olio, to Bolognese, to Alfredo. And the cooking wasn't too shabby, either.

"There's no _sękacz_," Feliks huffed, staring beseechingly at his partner.

Tolys looked confused for a moment. "Oh, you mean _Šakotis_? Feliks, this is England. You can't expect them to serve that here."

"But I like it." Feliks pouted.

Tolys laid a finger against Feliks' lips to silence him. "I'm sure there are other nice foods here. What do you feel like eating?"

Feliks eyed the table. "Um... That," he said, pointing towards a cheesecake (which Basch was helping himself to).

"Sure! Anything else?" Tolys inquired.

"I'll decide later," Feliks mumbled. Tolys got a wedge of the cheesecake for each of them, and they began to eat.

Basch tasted each dish, but he felt that cheese was still the best. He glanced around to look for drinks. Orange juice, fruit punch, tea, hot chocolate...

Hot chocolate sounded nice right now, especially since the chill of the night was setting in.

Basch obtained a cup and a sachet of hot chocolate and emptied its contents into the cup. There was hot water ready to be dispensed. He filled the cup to about three-quarters, then began to stir it.

The others had gathered around on the couches. Basch joined them.

Gilbert had taken off his hoodie, revealing a short-sleeved shirt with the words "I am awesome" underneath, and all the suspicions about Gilbert's albinism were confirmed – he had maroon eyes.

"So, is there beer here?" Gilbert yelled. Ludwig pressed his lips together disapprovingly.

Tolys went to inspect the table. "There's orange juice, fruit punch, tea, hot chocolate and wine."

Basch perked up. Wine? He hadn't seen the wine earlier. But sure enough, the wine bottle was there, standing proudly against the wall with a crimson ribbon around its neck. It must've been there the whole time; he just hadn't noticed it earlier.

"No beer?" Gilbert reiterated, disappointment evident in his voice.

Elizaveta clipped the side of his ear with her fingers. "We'll make do with wine, then!"

"Yes," Basch agreed. "Wine is good." Wine was preferable to hot chocolate. He needed a spirit booster right now, in the wake of what was happening.

Why had he foolishly agreed to come here? The food was palatable – delicious, really – and the place was well-maintained. Basch supposed he should be thankful that the host didn't show up, or he might have a hard time trying to wheedle out details about a friendship he could never recall.

Feliciano bounced over, his eyes nearly squeezed shut by the huge grin pushing his cheeks up.

"You have unsightly crumbs on your chin," Roderich muttered.

Elizaveta retrieved a servierd from the stack on the table and wiped Feliciano's mouth.

"_Ve!_ Thanks, Lizzie!" Feliciano said, plopping down on the seat next to Ludwig.

"You're most welcome," the motherly female responded with a smile.

Feliciano seemed to be indulging in a flowery daze, while everyone else merely stared at each other, so Basch spoke up.

"Alright, since the host isn't here, I'll just stay for the night and leave the next morning."

Ludwig nodded in approval. "Yeah. It seems pointless to stay on for much longer. Perhaps we should explore the house. Just in case the host is somewhere injured or something of the sort."

Arthur and Alfred had walked up during Ludwig's speech, and Alfred wailed, "I don't want to explore this scary house!"

"We'll go in groups," Ludwig continued, ignoring Alfred's outburst. "All of us will search through each room. Oh, in the meantime, perhaps you could choose a room to stay in for the night."

Tolys and Feliks sauntered over, the unopened bottle of wine in the former's hand. "Sorry I took so long to come over," Tolys apologised. "Feliks spilled some fruit punch on the floor."

"It's okay," Gilbert assured Tolys, patting an empty spot on the table to signal to him to place the wine down. Tolys did as directed.

"I suppose we could have two to four groups," Basch put forth.

"Two people in a group? That's too unsafe!" Alfred bawled. Feliciano agreed fervently, an odd strand of hair on the left side of his head bobbing to his nods.

"Fine. Three groups," Ludwig sighed. "Arthur and Alfred, pick someone to be in your group. Tolys and Feliks, pick someone else. Roderich and Elizaveta, pick the last one."

"There are ten people..." Roderich piped up.

"The last one can go with whoever," Ludwig added.

"Sweet! Then, I choose you!" Alfred pointed at Ludwig. "You seem brave!"

"Hm... Feliciano, why don't you come with us?" Elizaveta offered. Roderich opened his mouth to protest, but she only patted his shoulder with a tinkling laugh.

"He's more trouble than he's worth," Roderich grumbled. He dropped the argument quickly, though, since he couldn't argue with his wife.

Elizaveta faced Feliciano. "We'll look after you, Feli!"

Feliks cut in, "We'll, like, take Basch."

Basch looked up in amazement. Someone actually wanted him in their group? Unfortunately for him, these people were rather infuriating, so he wasn't sure how long he could put up with them.

"No one wants the awesome me?" Gilbert exclaimed. "Fine. I'll stay here and drink all the alcohol!"

"You were supposed to choose someone to join," Ludwig muttered, moving to stand up. "But I guess you could stay here as well. Don't make a mess."

"Relax, brother!" Gilbert lolled back on the sofa, kicking his feet up to rest them on the armrest. "I'll be right here!"

"Let's go, then," Ludwig commanded, approaching Arthur and Alfred.

Feliks and Tolys watched Basch make his way over to them. Basch regarded them coolly. "So, uh, where do you want to start the exploration?"

Tolys turned to look at the grand staircase which branched out into two wings. "Maybe the right side? Since Alfred's team seems to have taken the left."

He was right. The team which consisted of all the blonde males was already climbing the stairs. They stuck to the left of the majestic staircase.

"We'll check this floor, then," Elizaveta proffered, having overheard their conversation.

"That'd be nice!" Tolys smiled gratefully.

It was irrelevant, but Basch observed that while one team had entirely blonde members, the other team was composed of brunettes.

"Right, let's go, then." Basch led the way towards the right wing of the mansion. Feliks seized Tolys' arm once more.

Basch had a feeling they were in a relationship, but it was not any of his business. He pushed open the first door. It opened into a small, neat room.

"Well, this room is nice," Basch alleged.

Tolys looked at him. "Would you like to stay here?"

Well, why not? It was just the right size for him. It had a single bed with starched white sheets, a small desk with a stool, and it wasn't too far from the main door.

"Okay," Basch accepted. "Now we look for a room for you two."

His words obviously implied something, and the pair must've realised it too. Tolys turned red, but Feliks merely looked away disinterestedly.

Basch nosed about in the room for a while more before deciding it was empty, then they continued down the empty corridor.

The next room was the same as the previous: small, whitewashed and empty. The third and fourth rooms were in a similar style, except with a different colour scheme.

"Such a nice house," Basch murmured.

Only Tolys replied, "Yes, it is, isn't it?"

"Yeah. Why don't you speak?" Basch asked Feliks.

Feliks gazed at him with apprehension. "Because I'm, like, not comfortable around you guys yet."

"Oh." Basch had never known someone with such stranger anxiety before.

Basch's words had relaxed Feliks a little, though. He uttered more words throughout their reconnaissance of the house, and by the time they reached the last room, Feliks was absolutely chatty. Basch almost wished he was quiet again.

"So, like, Tolys chose the shirt for me. Don't you think it's rad?" Feliks questioned, nudging Basch.

"Uh-huh," Basch grunted non-commitally. The top was slightly more masculine than the skirt, at least. "Why do you cross-dress?"

"Because I like it," Feliks replied simply.

Tolys added shyly, "I think he looks rather cute."

Basch decided not to comment. He twisted the knob of the final door, revealing the grandest room Basch had ever seen in his life. The walls were painted a pale pink. Directly in front of them was a walk-in closet which led into a bathroom, and a little to their left was a dressing table.

"Wow!" Feliks enthused. He ran inside the walk-in closet, but came out after about two seconds. "It's empty."

Tolys laughed. "Of course, this room isn't occupied."

Basch stepped inside. Beyond the dressing table was a partition. He plodded over, peering over the partition. There was a queen-sized bed with chiffon spilling over gently over the edges of the bed, and the red pillows looked plump and soft.

Basch spun around. "I think we've found your room."

"This is totally awesome!" Feliks gushed, jumping on Tolys.

"Indeed!" Tolys beamed, bending over from Feliks' weight. "Thanks a lot, Basch, for helping—"

Basch interrupted, "There's no need to thank me. We were supposed to search this house anyway."

"And our search is, like, complete," Feliks proclaimed, sliding off Tolys. "Let's go back now. I feel like drinking the soup."

-o-

"This floor doesn't have much," Elizaveta commented. "Once we step in from the front door we'll enter the main hall, so there's nothing to check there."

"There are passageways to the left and right of the stairs, though," Roderich pointed out.

"Let's go to the right first," Elizaveta suggested. No one else argued, so she grasped their hands, one on each side, and led them over.

The corridor opened into a large kitchen. The three of them stood under the doorway gaping at the sheer size of it. They could probably fit three elephants in here with all the furniture removed.

Roderich was the first to get down to business.

"Open each cupboard and drawer," Roderich instructed, releasing Elizaveta's hand.

"Okay!" Feliciano chirped, heading to the larder right away.

The kitchen was well-stocked. It had everything an ordinary person would need to whip up a meal, and more. Oddly enough, though, there wasn't any fresh food, only food that could be kept for many years.

"I suppose this person doesn't enjoy trips to the local market," Roderich remarked, noticing the same thing.

"There's dried pasta!" Feliciano exulted, lifting up a can of tinned spaghetti bolognese and spindly sticks of uncooked pasta.

"This place has been cleaned recently," Elizaveta informed them, dragging her index finger across the spotless stove. "And well-cleaned, by the looks of it."

"That means that someone must be somewhere around," Roderich said. "We still have a few rooms to cover, and I'm certain there's a broom cupboard under the stairs."

"Hey, a door!" Feliciano exclaimed, skipping past Roderich.

Roderich and Elizaveta turned. Right at the back of the kitchen stood a black door. Feliciano threw open the door without a second's hesitation.

It was pitch-black outside. A faint sliver of pale moonlight illuminated the top of the heavy cumulus clouds which filled the entire night sky.

"Feli!" Elizaveta cried. She felt an unnatural terror which she couldn't explain. The wind blew through the door, carrying sea salt and water droplets along with it. It stung as it made contact with her skin.

"It's so dark," Feliciano murmured.

"Come back here," Roderich ordered in a thin voice.

Elizaveta ran towards Feliciano and kicked the door shut, then yanked him away. "Okay, we're done in the kitchen. Let's go!"

She ushered the two males out of the kitchen and made eye contact with Gilbert, who was still lounging on the sofa. Gilbert leered at her.

"The moron's probably drunk," Roderich muttered in distaste, averting his eyes.

Feliciano stopped and tugged on Roderich's sleeve. "I want to sleep," he mewled. "I didn't have a _siesta_!"

"You can sleep later!" Roderich snapped. "We have to finish scouring this floor first."

"_Ve_... Can't you do it by yourselves?"

Elizaveta's kind eyes met Roderich's irritated ones. "Okay, Feli. You go over to sit with Gilbert, okay? Don't touch the pervert."

Roderich opened his mouth to object, but the Italian was already wandering away with his eyes half-closed.

"I suppose he's in no mood to work," Roderich conceded, "But you're being too lenient, Elizaveta."

Elizaveta laughed. "Loosen up, will you? This is supposed to be a celebration!"

"It's not much of a celebration if the actual host isn't here," Roderich retorted.

"But you did have a nice meal, didn't you?" Elizaveta fired back.

"Well... Yes." Roderich couldn't deny that. Things hadn't exactly gone haywire just because the organiser wasn't here. Maybe this was part of his plan all along; provide the guests with sumptuous food and comfortable lodging. Some people could simply want to be good samaritans.

-o-

Ludwig had picked the first room his group had come across. It was simple and practical. A small bed, a wardrobe and a desk with a stool. He didn't even need anything other than the bed, really, since he was only going to be staying the night.

Now they continued down the corridor, turning out each room. There wasn't a single sign of anyone living there besides the fact that this house was well tended-to. The bedsheets had not a single crease, and every corner was thoroughly dusted. Ludwig was impressed. He actually wanted to meet the owner of the house now, or the maids, if he had any.

The deeper in they went, the more Alfred shivered, despite the house being fully illuminated. Ludwig had to continually remind himself to keep his cool. Alfred's fingernails were cutting crescents into his skin, and the rowdy bickering between the American and the Briton next to him wasn't helping matters.

"Will you stop being such a simpering git?" Arthur fumed.

"S-Something m-moved over t-there! A-Artie, sleep w-with me tonight!" Alfred sobbed.

"That's a shadow," Ludwig gritted out. Alfred was pushing his (minuscule) patience to its limits. And he didn't even want to think about what Alfred had just said. There was only so much his brain could take for one day.

"Oh, all right," Arthur scowled. "Now get off me, my shoulders are going to fall off."

"Hey Artie!" Alfred called. "This room is awesome! Fit for a hero!"

"I believe your bed is there," England drawled, jerking a thumb at the waste-paper basket.

"But then again... Since both of us are sleeping in the same room, I'll take this bed—" Alfred patted the enormous bed "—and you can have _'my'_ bed!"

Arthur choked out, "You idiot! I'm not staying with you anymore! I only did it out of goodwill, but—"

"No! I'm sorry, come back!" Alfred cried.

Arthur hesitated. "Fine. Just this once."

"Yay!" Alfred bounced on the edge of the bed in childish joy.

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Will you stop that? Your fat arse is going to break the bed."

"Let's keep moving," Ludwig interjected. Really, he would love to stick around and listen to them tossing around insults which belied their underlying sexual frustration towards each other, but he had a task to complete.

"Oh yes. Have you found a room for Gilbert?" Arthur questioned.

"Um... He can take the room next to mine," Ludwig answered. He hadn't really paid it much thought.

"Okay, let's finish this and go back fast," Arthur said. "We're almost at the end anyway."

"Finally," Alfred snivelled. "That was the worst journey in my life!"

Ludwig could feel the blood vessel throbbing near his temple. He strode out of the room and leaned against the wall.

Arthur emerged from the room after him. "Hey, sorry about that... We got a little carried away," he mumbled, not meeting Ludwig's eyes.

He always got too carried away. Arthur was rather brash – he often gave in to his whims, even if it led to disastrous consequences.

_"Okay, men, you'll ambush them through path A," Arthur commanded._

_"But path A is surrounded by—"_

_"Are you questioning my judgement?!" Arthur barked._

_"No, sir, no!"_

That's right, _Arthur thought._ Path A is surrounded by enemies, and that's exactly why I'm sending you there.

_"Good." Arthur stared down the man before him. He had constantly defied direct orders and opposed certain rules, giving him the title of "most hated"._

_And Arthur wanted to be rid of him._

"It's fine," Ludwig intoned. "Get Alfred out and let's wrap this up."

Arthur went into the room and dragged a flailing Alfred out. Ludwig clamped his hand down on Alfred's wrist testily, towing him over to the final room. They did a quick inspection of the room, opening the closets and checking under the beds, but came up empty.

"Okay, we've confirmed that no one is in this wing. Maybe the others have found something." Ludwig had barely finished his sentence before Alfred blew past him in his haste to get back to the main hall. Arthur shot him an apologetic look.

Arthur and Ludwig met Roderich and Elizaveta once they descended the stairs, and they fell in step. "Found anything?" Roderich inquired. There had been a music room and a library on the left wing, and Roderich resolved to enter it when he had the time. Elizaveta, of course, made the same resolution regarding the library.

"Nope," Arthur replied. "We found rooms for ourselves, though."

Elizaveta gave Roderich an accusing look. "We forgot to do that."

"There are plenty of rooms anyway, you'll find one," Ludwig assured them. All the guests had gathered back around Gilbert and the couch. Feliciano was dozing on Gilbert's shoulder.

"That skiver..." Ludwig groused.

"Yo!" Gilbert grinned. "Came back none the wiser, didn't you?"

"Yeah," Ludwig admitted. "At least we did some work, unlike some people."

"Hey, I was guarding the food!" Gilbert defended jokingly.

"Can we /please/ focus?" Basch snapped. "So we've discovered that there's no one in the house. Someone could be on the island, though. As a precaution we should all lock our doors."

The others nodded in acknowledgement.

Arthur voiced, "But what about the food? Would someone be as silly as to set up all these then scram?"

"Yeah, it totally doesn't make sense," Feliks agreed.

"Lock the doors," Ludwig ordered. "We—"

Elizaveta gasped, "There's a door in the kitchen!"

"I'll get it," Tolys volunteered.

"And I'll lock this door," Basch offered, ambling towards the main door.

Tolys came back a while later looking distressed. "There wasn't any lock in the door, so I shoved a chair underneath it."

"That's good enough," Ludwig conceded.

"I like German sparkle parties!" Gilbert hooted abruptly.

"Not now, brother," Ludwig growled.

"Hell yeah, I like parties too!" Alfred chimed in.

"Could you be a little – no, a lot – more civilised?" Roderich griped.

"Are your undies too tight, Roddy?" Gilbert cackled. "Come on, we're on a remote island with food and a huge house to ourselves!"

"And we have alcohol!" Alfred cheered.

Feliciano was roused from his slumber by the rambunctious yelling around him, and he rubbed his eyes sleepily. "What's going on?"

"_SPARKLE PARTY!_" Gilbert shrieked, snatching the wine bottle off the table.

The place was in chaos. Gilbert and Alfred pranced about while everyone else except Feliciano, Feliks and Tolys yelled at them to sit their arses down. The three uninvolved parties stood by the corner, watching the disaster unfold before their eyes. There was a lot of violence involved, and some words which were uttered were not suitable for mention.

Finally, once all of them were exhausted and hoarse, they flopped down on various chairs.

"You. Are. Idiots!" Basch seethed, glaring daggers at Gilbert and Alfred.

"Everyone chill the heck out," Gilbert exclaimed. "Let's just drink some wine then call it a day."

No one opposed his idea. Perhaps the thought of having some alcohol buzzing through their weary bodies after their ordeal pleased them.

Gilbert popped the wine bottle open without the use of a corkscrew. "Experience," he told Tolys with a smirk when he noticed the brunette's admiring gaze.

Roderich went to retrieve the wine glasses from the kitchen. Elizaveta accompanied him. Then they came back and distributed the glasses.

Gilbert proceeded to pour the wine into each glass. He was skilled at it; all the glasses had roughly equal amounts of liquid in them.

"Cheers!" they called, clinking their wine glasses together. Gilbert sipped the wine. It had a sweet, fruity taste, and the alcohol sent a tingle through his tongue. Not bad at all.

Everyone sipped their wine and their moods lifted instantly. They placed their glasses down on the table before them with a smile, then reclined into the chairs.

"This is some fine wine," Arthur praised.

"Are you kidding me? It tastes like crap," Alfred complained. "What's up with the strong taste and smell?"

"You don't know how to appreciate fine food," Roderich said loftily, straightening up. He removed a box from his bag and laid it on the table. "I have some small tarts here with me, feel free to help yourselves."

Hands reached across the table for the pastries.

"This is good!" Feliks complimented, his emerald eyes gleaming. "Where did you get this?"

"I made it," Roderich announced proudly, "Using an Austrian recipe."

"Austrian?" Tolys echoed reverently. "You're Austrian?"

"Indeed I am," Roderich declared.

Gilbert smacked his lips together, drawing out an exhale. "Man, if this house is empty, I might want to stay here forever! It has awesome food and awesome rooms!"

"You'll be alone," Elizaveta told him with a sugary smile.

"And you'd need to buy the food. Good food doesn't magically appear here, you know," Roderich added.

"And the rooms are nice because they were clean—"

Gilbert cut Ludwig off with a nonchalant wave of his hand. "Okay, okay. I get it. You don't have to be such a priss."

Alfred chugged the rest of his wine down and pulled a face. "Man, what a horrible taste!"

"You don't chug it!" Basch cried, aghast. "You have to sip it and savour its taste. Like this." He picked up his glass of wine from the table. Gripping the glass by its stem, he lifted it to his lips and let the edge of the glass rest there for a moment. He glanced over to make sure Alfred was still watching, then tilted the glass until the maroon liquid flowed into his mouth.

Two things happened next.

One, the glass fell from his hand and wine spilled across his lap.

Two, he leaned forward, slowly picking up speed until his head crashed into the table. The table gave way under his weight, and his entire body went sprawling across the rug.

* * *

**Ehehe. Unoriginal first death is unoriginal.**

**Please review! (I don't usually ask for reviews, but I would really like to know what people think of this story! I mean, you can even PM me and fling insults – er, constructive criticism – at me.)**


	4. Eight Little Soldier Boys

**I own neither And Then There Were None nor Hetalia.**

* * *

"What?!" Feliciano screamed, leaping onto Ludwig's lap and clinging onto him. The German choked on his wine at that sudden action.

"I-Is that how you savour wine?" Alfred asked uncertainly.

"No, you idiot! Something's wrong!" Arthur lilted. His face was already red. The Briton was known for his inability to handle liquor, and he sometimes wondered why he continued to drink when he knew full well some embarrassing thing would happen after he became drunk. Arthur stood up and wobbled over to Basch. His legs felt like jelly, but he managed to make it until he was next to Basch.

"I-I think h-his head is bleeding," Tolys said. "I'll get a first-aid kit!" He stood up and backed away. To where, he wasn't even sure. Were there even first-aid kits in this place?

"What just happened?" Elizaveta gawked at Basch's motionless body in abject horror.

Ludwig shoved Feliciano aside and approached Basch. The Swiss lay facedown, a crimson pool slowly forming around his head.

Feliks clapped a hand over his mouth. "I'm, like, going to be sick."

Gilbert knelt next to Basch and laid his hand on his shoulder. The moment he made contact with Basch's flesh, the blood froze in Gilbert's veins. It was like a bucket of cold water had just been flung over him. His head throbbed. This couldn't be happening. _Basch isn't dead. He might have ceased breathing for a moment, but his heart is most definitely still pumping._

However, as Gilbert registered the cooling skin beneath his fingertips, he knew he was lying to himself.

"Basch's dead," Ludwig croaked, his face drained of colour.

Disbelieving eyes stared back at him.

"Basch's dead," Gilbert confirmed. The words felt foreign and heavy on his tongue. Just a while ago, all of them had been teasing each other and enjoying their wine, and now... Someone died right before their eyes.

"What killed him?" Elizaveta wailed. "He fell forward and hit the table – I'm sure that part wasn't intentional!"

"H-He died before he toppled over," Roderich surmised. "I can't think of any other explanation for this."

"The food was poisoned," Feliks breathed. "It, like, makes sense, right? Basch only died after he drank the wine. And ate your pastries." The last line was directed at Roderich.

"But we all ate the same things!" Alfred bawled. "We're all gonna die!"

Suddenly, the wine wasn't as appealing anymore. Neither were the Austrian tarts.

"What are you accusing me of, Feliks?" Roderich had stood up, glaring daggers at the blonde boy. "I assure you, my food is made with the utmost vigilance. It would not be tainted! Furthermore, I would never stoop so low as to try to kill some people I've never even met!"

"And I ate the most!" Alfred continued in a frenzy, completely oblivious to the tension brewing around him.

"You're not dead yet," Gilbert comforted Alfred. It was more out of annoyance than sympathy. He couldn't think properly with the American's persistent blubbering ringing in his ears. "No, wait. Scratch the 'yet'. You won't be dying anytime soon."

"Heroes shouldn't die!" Alfred proclaimed through the tears streaming down his face.

"Shut up! Stop fighting! We have to try to revive him," Ludwig stated with forced patience. His sanity was hanging on a fraying thread. "Who's willing to do CPR?"

Gilbert felt a surge of pride for his brother for keeping his mind at a time like this.

A prolonged pause followed that question. Everyone's eyes flitted to each other, but no one was willing to perform CPR on Basch.

Ludwig scrunched his nose up and positioned himself next to Basch, sweeping away the fragments of glass around him. His sinuous arms gripped Basch's shoulders and flipped him over without much difficulty.

His body was in a terrible state. His turquoise eyes which had once sparked with vigour now remained glassy, staring at nothing. There was a huge gash in his forehead, but all the blood congealed at the wound, since it was no longer pumping. Tiny shards of glass stuck into his skin. Wine trickled out of the side of his mouth.

The side of Ludwig's mouth tugged downwards. "I am not doing mouth-to-mouth anymore. I could still pump his chest, though."

"Then hurry!" Gilbert urged him. "He's been dead for quite some time!"

Ludwig brushed some shimmery particles off Basch's chest and laid his hands on it. He began to push down. "_Eins, zwei, drei, funf, fier..._"

"Dude, I know!" Alfred had composed himself enough to speak normally again. "What if something happened in his body, like when you mix coke and mentos? Does wine explode when mixed with anything?"

Roderich stroked his chin. "That's a possibility."

"What if it's suicide?" Arthur slurred. It was an effort to string coherent thoughts together through the alcohol-induced fog in his mind.

"I don't know him well, but he certainly doesn't look like the kind who'd want to end his life," Elizaveta commented woefully.

"Murder?" Feliks whispered.

Roderich's breath hitched. Murder? What a preposterous idea! He risked a glimpse at Feliks. Feliks was completely petrified like a statue, but somehow, he didn't look as distraught as he ought to have been.

Tolys burst back into the hall, his long copper bangs hanging around his face limply. "I couldn't find a first aid kit, but—" He lifted a long, folded white cloth "—we could use this as a band—"

"Don't bother," Gilbert interrupted. "He's dead."

"Dead?" Tolys echoed, his jade eyes bogging to nearly twice its usual size. "What? Who? Why?"

Feliciano wept, "This isn't how a party should turn out! There shouldn't be any casualties!"

"What are we going to do about him?" Arthur asked, gesturing to Basch. Basch's eyes disturbed him quite a bit. They were so hollow, so... Unsuspecting.

"W-We should give him a proper burial," Elizaveta piped up shakily. "And call his relatives."

"No! You know what this means? Since there's only ten of us here, one of us must be the culprit!" Roderich remonstrated furiously, his amethyst orbs scanning all the terrified faces around him.

"We would never—" Feliks began, but Roderich cut him off. He was on a roll.

"How do we know that? We don't! We don't know any of you! Well, I know Elizaveta and Ludwig and his annoying brother, but what about the rest of you? We were called here for, frankly, an extremely weak reason, and we meet up with a few other strangers. You could have a hidden agenda!"

Roderich's hand fluttered to his chest, taking laboured breaths. His angry rant had taken more out of him than he was willing to give. His violet eyes clouded over, and Elizaveta wrapped her arms around him.

His speech had stunned everyone to the point of extreme silence – something Roderich often wished would happen when he performed in front of a group of rambunctious kids.

"He's right, you know." Tolys' voice was barely more than a whisper. "We don't know each other at all."

"It doesn't matter. I'm leaving the next morning," Ludwig said. A bead of sweat rolled down his face despite the dry air that blew in from the window.

Wait...

"Why is the window open?" Gilbert exclaimed. Everyone whipped around to stare at it. Sure enough, the window was open where it hadn't been before.

"Someone's out there!" Feliciano cried.

"Quick, check Basch's body!" Alfred commanded. "Maybe there was a gunshot wound or a dart!"

Elizaveta took the initiative to slam the window shut. Ludwig and Gilbert searched Basch's entire body, but there was nothing.

"I don't understand," Tolys mumbled. "No one dies like that... Maybe he died of natural causes..."

"That's another possibility," Roderich conceded.

"Okay, here's what we do. We go to bed, leave the island the next morning and inform the police that someone has passed away there," Ludwig put forth.

Alfred clutched Arthur's forearm. "B-Basch's ghost i-is going to haunt m-meeee!"

Arthur shook Alfred off impatiently. "That's a good plan. Let's go to bed."

"What about his body?" Elizaveta questioned.

Gilbert stood up and dusted his knees. "Best to leave it there for now. I don't want them to find any incriminating evidence against us, even if we are innocent."

"Yes. Yes, sleep is good," Feliciano chanted. The poor boy seemed a little traumatised.

"Don't forget to lock the doors," Ludwig reminded them as they gathered up their belongings and plodded up the stairs. An almost electrifying tension settled over them. The mistrust they had for each other was evident, and they were definitely sealing up their doors. Anyone could come in and murder them brutally in their sleep.

Gilbert and Feliciano trailed after Ludwig like a lost puppy, and Roderich and Elizaveta turned to the right, following Tolys and Feliks.

"This is – was – Basch's room," Tolys told them, his voice thick with a sob caught in his throat.

"May he rest in peace," Roderich murmured, his eyelids drooping to half-mast.

Elizaveta placed her fist on her ribcage, where her heart would be. Then she looked up at her husband. "Let's look for a room. I'm really tired."

"There's a room at the end of the hallway with a double bed," Tolys informed them. "There's no bathroom, but you can use ours."

Roderich eyed them in suspicion. When he spoke, his tone was glacial. "That's quite alright, I think we could get by without showering for one day. I value my life."

Elizaveta glanced away almost guiltily. She felt bad for rejecting their kind offer like that, but Roderich did have a point. She wouldn't know if they were secretly serial killers.

Feliks' eyes flashed agitatedly. "Like I would dirty my hands trying to murder you!"

"I-It's okay, Feliks," Tolys cajoled, then he turned to the couple with a woeful smile. "I'm sorry that things have come to this. Now, we must go!" He seized Feliks' hand and ran towards their room.

Roderich and Elizaveta turned to each other in astonishment, then Elizaveta grabbed Roderich's arm, ran to the nearest room which wasn't Basch's and locked the door as if a crazed man would round the corner and come after them with a chopper.

The room had a single bed.

"Damn," Elizaveta muttered. Her heart was hammering against her ribcage, and her words came out breathless. But soon her heart rate slowed, and she felt more at ease knowing no one else could enter the room.

"I'll take the couch," Roderich offered. "A lady should take the bed."

Elizaveta grinned. "Since when have you known me to be much of a lady?"

"You're biologically a lady," Roderich countered lightly.

"Well, forget it," Elizaveta declared. "Both of us can either squeeze on the bed, or sleep on the floor together."

"That makes no sense!" Roderich objected. "It'd be better if one person was well-rested than if both of us woke up with aching bodies."

"We'll take turns," Elizaveta insisted stubbornly. "You can take the bed first, and I'll take the bed for the later half of the morning. No arguments." She leaned over, placing a graceful finger against her husband's slightly parted lips.

Roderich forced a smile. "If you say so."

"Alright then, goodnight!" Elizaveta settled down on the couch, feeling the familiar squeeze in her abdomen. She needed to pee but she couldn't risk going out. She just prayed she wouldn't wet the sofa. It was good to have a penis sometimes.

-o-

"Brother, you can take any room. Be quick," Ludwig ordered. He had no idea why Feliciano was tagging along with him, but Feliciano looked so alone and pitiful, and he didn't look strong enough to lift a finger against an ant, so Ludwig figured he couldn't be a danger. Anyway, if Feliciano suddenly turned on him, he could break the Italian's neck in one swift blow.

"I'll just take the room next to yours," Gilbert said flippantly. "Or we could be in the same—"

"_Nein!_" Ludwig bellowed. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow, then." He moved to enter the bedroom, but he realised Feliciano was shadowing him.

"What do you want?" he demanded gruffly, turning around just enough to see the unruly curl which stuck out of the left of Feliciano's head.

"I-I'm scared, and I don't want to sleep alone," Feliciano admitted, gazing up at the tall German beseechingly.

Ludwig inhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he did so. Then he let all the air out in a large sigh. "And?"

Sensing that Ludwig needed a more direct approach, Feliciano blurted, "I want to sleep with you!"

Ludwig glowered at the young man before him. Feliciano withered slightly under his hostile glare, then he babbled, "I-I'm not the murderer! I swear! Y-You can check me and my bags for weapons! I'm just a poor virgin with family in Germ-"

"Enough," Ludwig snapped. "You can stay with me. Don't mess up the tables, and don't touch my things."

"Thank you!" Feliciano exclaimed, tiptoeing to wrap his arms around Ludwig's neck.

Ludwig felt blood rise to his cheeks. "Get off! I said you could stay with me, but it doesn't give you permission to touch me!"

Feliciano slid off, giving Ludwig a heart-rendering, clueless smile. Ludwig sighed again in resignation and opened the door, shoving Feliciano in. He locked the door after both of them entered, watching Feliciano suspiciously.

When Feliciano made no move other than to fling himself on the bed, Ludwig queried doubtfully, "So... Do you actually have family in Germany?"

"No, not really. I do have family in Italy though," Feliciano replied, bouncing on the bed.

"Ah... Okay. You can take the bed. I'll be fine on the chair," Ludwig told Feliciano.

The chair in question was a stiff-looking armchair with bronze edges. The cushions were made out of red velvet, but they were so thin, they barely provided any comfort.

"Eh? We could share..." Feliciano suggested.

Ludwig stiffened. "No! I am not sleeping with another man!" Without another word, Ludwig marched to the armchair and sank down onto it.

Feliciano scrutinised Ludwig anxiously, and Ludwig frowned. "What?"

"N-Nothing," Feliciano squeaked, pulling the blankets up over his head.

Ludwig felt his eyelids getting heavy, but he couldn't let his guard down. He cursed inwardly for not rejecting the Italian and causing him to end up in such an uncomfortable sleeping position. He briefly entertained the thought of moving to another room, but his legs felt leaden, and he didn't really feel like endangering himself by leaving his temporary sanctuary. And it was with these thoughts swirling in his mind that the darkness enveloped him and he became dead to the world – not in the literal sense, of course.

-o-

Arthur's head pounded, and Alfred wasn't making things any better with his constant announcements of "I need to pee!"

"Go pee out of the window or something!" Arthur snarled at Alfred once he couldn't tolerate it anymore.

"But what if a murderer or ghost is out there, waiting for me to open the window and stab me through the heart or kill me with its glare?" Alfred wailed.

Arthur leapt to his feet, clutching the edge of the chair as the sudden surge of blood through his body threw him off-balance. He stomped towards the corner, snatched the waste-paper basket up, and thrust it at Alfred. "There."

Alfred's jaw fell open, then he started laughing. "Oh, Artie, you're hilarious!"

Arthur gritted his teeth together. "I don't see what's so funny about that. Now relieve yourself and keep your blithering mouth shut! I'm trying to get some sleep!"

Arthur made his way back to the bed and sidled under the warm blankets. The bed was so soft and the linens felt slightly cool against his skin, a reprieve from the stickiness that currently enveloped him.

There was the sound of plastic rustling, and the patter of liquid.

"Oh God, you really did it," Arthur moaned.

Alfred zipped his pants noisily and whirled around, approaching the bed. "Yeah, you kinda told me to."

His palm pressed down on the bed as he attempted to climb up. The bed dipped under his weight.

"Don't touch me," Arthur warned, scooting as far away as he could. "Your hands are filthy."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah."

"... Goodnight," Arthur mumbled. He didn't know what else to say.

"Goodnight," Alfred answered.

"Are you not switching off the light?" Arthur scowled. "I can't sleep when there's practically a sun hanging over my head."

"No! I'm s-scared!"

_Just this once,_ Arthur relented. _I'm scared too. I'm getting a really bad feeling about this place, so I'm glad you're here with me. You're too bloody clueless to be a murderer._

"Ugh," was all Arthur said as he yanked the covers up over his head and burrowed into the bed.

-o-

Feliks was raging.

"Like, how dare they accuse us of being the murderers? If I wanted to live dangerously, I'd pick a job as a fashion designer. You know how often they get chewed-out? It's even worse than being a murderer! It's like pure, undiluted torture in broad daylight!"

Tolys couldn't help his lips from quirking at his friend's angry outburst.

"Feliks, you and I both know that we're not murderers. Frankly, I'm not even sure what's happening. We can't prove that there's a murderer, since only one person has died, and of unknown causes, too," Tolys reasoned.

"Yeah, we're totally not murderers, but, like..."

_"Stop bullying me!"_

_"You're, like, a total loser."_

_"I'm not!"_

_"You have a face only a mother could love. Oh, except your mother doesn't even love yours."_

Feliks trailed off and pushed his bottom lip out in somewhat of a pout. It wasn't his fault that person had been too weak to accept his words. He wasn't a murderer.

Tolys leaned forward, his teal eyes shining. "Remember we said that we'd make the most of this holiday?"

Feliks gazed back at him. "You don't mean... Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Yes," Tolys breathed. "Um, it depends on what you're thinking, actually. If it's something along the lines of 'shopping', then I'm sorry to disappoint."

Feliks blinked uncertainly. "There's a mall here?"

"No."

"Then it's not like we can go shopping," Feliks huffed.

Tolys giggled. "Well, how about a midnight walk?"

"But the murderer—"

Tolys affixed Feliks with a completely serious stare. "Do you really think there's a murderer here? The others seem like really nice people. It could've been an accident on Basch's part."

"You never know," Feliks responded, but his voice was regaining its usual cheekiness. He did want to go out alone with Tolys. It sounded totally romantic.

"I'll protect you," Tolys whispered, pulling the blonde into his embrace. Feliks laid his head against Tolys' chest, feeling the familiar thump of his heart and the rise and fall of his chest.

"I'll get dressed, then," Feliks finally said after a few seconds had passed. He squirmed out of Tolys' grasp and ferreted through his luggage, throwing out articles of clothing that he didn't find suitable.

Tolys smiled and folded all his clothes back, trying to stem his growing irritation at Feliks' lackadaisical attitude. "Feliks, could you at least try to set your clothes aside nicely?"

His statement was met with the bang of the bathroom door. Tolys sighed in resignation; despite all the Pole's sass, he could never truly hate him. Not the way he hated his former master, at least.

_Tolys remembered gripping the heavy encyclopaedia. It slipped out of his grip multiple times as he made his way over to his master's bedroom. Tolys had to balance the thick book on the thigh of one of his legs propped against the wall as he fumbled with the doorknob._

_Tolys had managed to sneak up behind his master, but he had overlooked one thing: the light was behind him. So when he raised the encyclopaedia, his shadow fell across his master, and his master turned._

_He gasped, swinging the book wildly in his panic. The book met his master's head with a crunch, but it wasn't as hard as he would've liked it. His master collapsed at Tolys feet. Tolys hightailed it out of the room. The other servants would find his master's body eventually._

_Later, "Famous Doctor In Need Of A Doctor" made the headlines. It was a stupid title. Tolys had read the newspaper while nearly hyperventilating, but to his relief, he had not been mentioned at all. The reporters announced__ that the encyclopaedia had fallen from the shelf_ and hit his master despite the shelf not being big enough to fit the encyclopaedia. Of course, that last part was not mentioned. His master suffered a few minor skull fractures and he wouldn't be regaining consciousness for a few months at the very least.

"How do I look?" Feliks asked, drawing Tolys out of his reverie. He stepped out of the bathroom and gave a little twirl. His skirt billowed out, revealing more of his toned thighs.

Tolys' eyes glazed over as they roved him. Feliks – his boyfriend – was beautiful. He'd look stunning in girls' or guys' clothing.

"Very nice," Tolys choked out, a blush tinting his cheeks.

"Great!" Feliks beamed. "Then let's, like, go."

-o-

Gilbert pulled out his diary.

_Dear diary of the awesome me,_

_Today, I was awesome all day._

_I met up with bruder first, then we bumped into Specs and his violent wife while on the way to the party. Specs, his wife and I got into the boat with two gay men, one whom puked all over my hoodie._

_That was not awesome._

_The party went rather smoothly, but the host didn't appear, so bruder got worried and sent us out in groups to search the house. I guarded the food, being the awesome person I am._

_Feliciano sat next to me after a while and fell asleep. He was cute. I watched him dozing and making strange "ve" sounds every so often._

_The others gathered back here without finding anything. I was a little creeped out, to be honest. The entire house was empty even though everything was set up nicely, which made me wonder... Is there someone else out there on the island?_

_Anyway, the best way to get our mind off things is alcohol, so I suggested it! The American, Alfred, got all pumped up, but everyone else yelled at me for giving such an awesome suggestion. They don't know greatness when they're looking it in the eye!_

_It was a pity there wasn't beer, though. We had to make do with wine._

_Things became even scarier when Basch suddenly dropped dead after drinking the wine. I still can't fully wrap my mind around it. Death is not awesome. Basch was so young, and always so angry, but his time definitely wasn't up yet._

_Thank goodness we're leaving tomorrow. Rest in peace, Basch._

_I hear a noise outside. Going to investigate now. Old man, please protect me._

Gilbert shut the dog-eared book and scanned the room. Sure enough, there were footsteps from outside. Gilbert reached for the pair of scissors in his pencil case, then crept towards the door. If anyone decided to jump out at him, a swift jab in the perpetrator's ribs would do the trick.

_Just like how you had jabbed the man in his ribs?_

His hand closed around the doorknob. The footsteps came nearer and there was indistinct chatter. Gilbert applied more pressure, twisting the doorknob fully until the door cracked open just a tiny bit.

Gilbert passed the scissors over to his right hand and pressed his eye against the gap in the door. It turned out that the door opened inwards, swinging towards the left side, so he had no choice but to use his right hand.

The footsteps were getting louder, the voices more audible, but the people were nowhere near him. He couldn't even see them from this angle.

"It's going to be fun!"

"Keep your voice down!"

Gilbert recognised the voices. His hand twitched, unconsciously snipping the air with the scissors. What were they doing sneaking around in the dead of the night?

"You know I, like, totally love you, right?"

"I know. I love you too."

There was silence for a while. Gilbert felt his stomach twist in uncertainty. What was happening? Had they entered some innocent person's room? What if they were the murderers?

There was a _schlick_ sound, and this time Gilbert's stomach churned for a completely different reason. Oh. _Oh,_ they had been kissing.

Gilbert couldn't take any more of this. He was never good at espionage, anyway. "Hey!" he hollered, interrupting their sweet little make-out session.

Tolys and Feliks whipped around.

"Who's there?" Feliks yelled back.

"Gilbert. What are you guys doing?"

"Like, it's totally none of your business!"

Gilbert stuck his head out even more to take a look at them. Feliks was dressed in a pink blouse with ruffles at the top, and yet another extremely short skirt. Tolys looked normal. He was wearing what he had worn earlier.

"Ah, I see. Going on a date?" Gilbert snickered.

Tolys fidgeted, lowering his head in embarrassment.

"Like I said, it's none of your business!" Feliks spat back.

"Well, have fun on your little date. Don't let any murderers get you," Gilbert taunted.

Tolys gasped. "That won't happen! Feliks, let's go."

"Feliks and Tolys sitting on a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!" Gilbert sang after them. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes – oops, I forgot, you're both guys."

The only answer he received was their footfalls growing fainter. Gilbert shut the door with a soft click. He returned to the desk and flipped his diary open to today's page, then added another paragraph to the bottom of his diary entry.

_It was only Feliks and Tolys going out on a date. Ah, being in a relationship is troublesome, isn't it? It's so much better being alone! Ha ha ha..._

-o-

"I totally don't like the fact that Gilbert saw us," Feliks complained.

"He doesn't matter. It's just us now, Feliks," Tolys responded gently.

Feliks brightened. "Yeah, I'm—"

His expression changed abruptly, tilting his head till he could view his feet.

"I'm not wearing the totally cute shoes! Wait here, I'll rush back and get them."

"That— Feliks—"

But Feliks was already gone, dashing back to their room at top speed. Tolys wrung his hands anxiously. The moon was at its fullest right now, but its light couldn't rival the mansion, which was completely aglow. It seemed no one was willing to switch off the lights. He wandered over to the edge of the rocks overlooking the ferocious waves crashing against its surface in wait of Feliks.

Feliks raced back to their room, mentally lamenting that the room was right at the end. But whatever gripes he had vanished the instant he threw open the door. The room was absolutely perfect. He made his way to the luggage, its cover already up, and overturned the entire thing. The clothes fell in a heap on the floor – something Tolys would definitely reprimand him for, but would still pack up without complaint. Feliks loved him for it. He had the best boyfriend in the world.

He found the shoes wedged between Tolys' books. Kicking his bedroom slippers off, he slipped the elegant shoes on his feet. At that moment, Feliks felt like Cinderella – albeit a Cinderella who had already found her prince, and didn't do housework, ever.

Feliks closed the empty luggage and shoed the mess of clothes aside, then ventured back outside. He skipped down the hallway joyously. It was a beautiful night out, Tolys was going to be there by his side, and they were going to enjoy this moonlit stroll.

Feliks burst through the front door jubilantly. "Tolys! I—"

His words evolved into a scream that wrecked his entire body as his gaze fell upon the sight before him. The scream was inhibited and raw, conveying all the emotions that he could never express properly, and he'd never have the chance to now.

_That not Tolys. This person's hair is too dark! No, it's not because his hair is dyed in blood. I'm positive that this just some random passerby... Who is somehow here in the middle of the night, in the middle of the ocean._

_Screw this. No, it can't be! Tolys, I love you. Tolys, come back! I'll clean the house from now on! I'll do all my work! Tolys, please... Don't do this! Okay, okay. This is very funny. Now stand up and hug me and tell me it was all a prank. Assure me that you're alright. Tolys. Tolys. TOLYS!_

* * *

**I can't take the cheeeese. Oh my goodness.**


	5. Seven Little Soldier Boys

**I own neither And Then There Were None nor Hetalia.**

**Thank you to jirachiofelephantsandwhales, Rose, Roderica Edelstein and Hi for reviewing! :)**

* * *

Thunder cracked across the house like a vicious whip. Elizaveta bolted upright in bed – or rather, on the couch. The room was dark except for the silvery moonlight filtering in, making the entire world seem grey.

Elizaveta looked out. Raindrops had started to pelt down on the window, the fat droplets joining up to form rivulets which ran down the glass.

The thunder boomed again, shaking the entire house to its roots. Roderich stirred from his huddled position under the covers. This time, the thunder didn't subside immediately. It continued growling like a feral animal, the sound rumbling and reverberating all around them.

Then Elizaveta heard something else. It was soft at first, but as the thunder faded, it became easier to pick out. There was an inhumane keening sound, followed by a bang and another scream.

_"Help! Someone, help!"_

Now Roderich sat up in bed, his trained musician's ears picking up on the disruption. His purple eyes met Elizaveta's green ones quizzically.

_"Oh my God, help!"_

"I-It sounds like Feliks," Elizaveta whispered, her voice barely audible.

"It might be a trap," Roderich cautioned. "We're safe here."

There was a thump from outside, and a completely debauched howl of anguish.

"But Feliks doesn't sound fine!" Elizaveta argued.

"That's his problem!" Roderich hissed, reaching for his spectacles.

Elizaveta's eyes misted up in dismay at her husband's harrowing words.

Roderich continued, more gently this time, "I won't trust him. He's too quiet, we don't know him at all. We can't tell what he's thinking, and he looks like he's plotting something, with his eyes always half-closed like that."

"You can't judge people based on appearances, Roddy," Elizaveta scolded. "I think Feliks is absolutely adorable."

"You're judging him based on his appearance, too," Roderich pointed out bitterly.

"E-Elizaveta? R-Roderich?" Feliks mewled from outside their door.

Elizaveta felt Roderich tense up. She chewed her bottom lip guiltily. Feliks sounded so pitiful. She couldn't really leave him out there so die. It was a risk that she was willing to take.

_What about that kid whom you left to die?_

Elizaveta ignored the voice. It was infuriatingly persistent, constantly bringing up things she tried so hard to abolish from her memory.

She got up and padded to the door, earning a disapproving "Oi" from Roderich. She flung the door open and yanked Feliks into the room, pinning his arms against his sides in just in case.

In the monochrome light, she couldn't see much, but she noticed his skin glistening with the tell-tale signs of tears.

"Feliks, what's wrong?" Elizaveta hadn't relinquished her grip on the small boy; rather, she now held him tighter, to comfort him, to assure him that she was supporting him. His skin was damp and cold, and she rationalised that it was because he had gone outside.

"T-To... Tolys..."

"What about him?" Elizaveta pressed. Now her fingers dug in even deeper, as if the immense squeezing could force the words out of him.

"H-He's..."

At that exact moment, the lightning flashed, illuminating Tolys' limp form in a puddle of crimson liquid. Their room was overlooking the main door, and since Tolys' body was a little way out, closer to the cliff, it was at a perfect angle to be seen from where Feliks stood. He shrieked and stumbled backwards against the door, pulling Elizaveta along with him.

Roderich's head whipped around in panic. What had gotten the boy so riled-up?

Roderich spotted it through the blurred window and he gasped sharply. His mauve eyes scanned Feliks surreptitiously. Thoughts were spinning around in his head, knocking about in his cranium and causing a bothersome headache.

_Is that Tolys?_

_Is Tolys dead?_

_Who killed Tolys?_

_Wasn't Feliks with Tolys?_

_Had there been someone else?_

_If so, Feliks must've seen him._

_What if there wasn't anyone else?_

_What if Feliks is putting on an act?_

_What if Feliks is the murderer?_

Roderich didn't like this train of thought, but now that the seed of doubt had been planted, he couldn't just dismiss it. He glanced at the weeping boy again. Feliks was pressed up against Elizaveta, clutching her sleeve and blowing his nose into her shirt. Elizaveta murmured kindly, telling him vague things like "Everything's okay."

Roderich bet that Elizaveta hadn't a clue what was going on, but she was still comforting him anyway.

Now he examined Feliks more closely. He looked unarmed, and – for the love of God – what was he wearing?! A frilly shirt and a skirt which had ridden up very indecently as he sat on the floor, that's what. Roderich could've lived without that sight.

He felt a twinge of worry when Feliks opened his eyes once more – those bright, cunning eyes which concealed the evil intent within him. They were so similar to... _Hers_.

He saw in Feliks' eyes what he had seen in that girl's.

_At that moment, he knew he had to remove her before she took over his position. Roderich was certain the girl knew she could do it, too. She could rise to fame and leave Roderich trailing behind in the dust. Her endless barrage of questions weren't purely inquiries, they were fired at him to seek out his weakness. She would destroy him when she found it. After all these years of his tutelage, this was how she was going to repay him._

_Preposterous. Unacceptable._

Roderich silently reached for his violin case. It was hard, and it was heavy. It could cause quite a bit of damage if swung hard enough.

Feliks erupted into fresh sobs again. "H-He's gone. Like, f-forever."

Elizaveta must have finally understood what Feliks was referring to, because she grasped his wrists in a vice-grip and pressed her face up against his. "What?"

"T-Tolys 's d-dead."

As long as Elizaveta continued to restrain Feliks in this manner, they would be alright.

"What?!" Elizaveta repeated, her voice rising an octave. The words didn't compute in her mind.

"O-Outside... B-Blood..." Feliks didn't seem capable of forming coherent sentences, not with his chest racking with hiccups and sobs.

Elizaveta got up and Roderich moved instinctively to take her place in front of Feliks. He wanted to make sure the boy with the sly harlequin eyes never got a chance to escape or carry out some possibly life-threatening act.

Elizaveta didn't take more than two steps before she saw the figure through the window.

Tolys' body was sprawled out on the ground, dangerously close to the edge of the rocks. Blood which had blossomed out around him now ran in pale scarlet streams, diluted by the rain. Most of it went over the cliff, but some travelled in the other direction, towards the mansion.

"Oh my God," Elizaveta breathed. This couldn't be happening. Two deaths in one night. She felt sick. She wanted to cry. All possibilities of suicide had been eradicated – this was obviously the work of a bloodthirsty lunatic who was somewhere on this island. Maybe he was in the house. Or maybe even... In the room with them.

Elizaveta forced herself to inhale and count to ten. The blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy. She stumbled towards the bed and sank down onto it, her mouth agape and her eyeballs round like a dying fish.

Okay, that might not have been the best analogy.

"Feliks. Tell me... What you were doing," Elizaveta ordered, her voice wavering slightly.

Feliks looked at her through swollen, bloodshot eyes. "T-Tolys... W-We were going o-out... T-Then I f-forgot something, s-so I went b-back... When I c-came out, h-he..."

Feliks' voice broke, unable to continue anymore. His fist curled on the bunched-up fabric of his shirt.

Roderich pondered his words. Feliks could be telling the truth, which meant that someone else was out there, and that person had mauled Tolys when Feliks left his sight.

On the other hand, Feliks could be lying. He had been almost too eager to accuse Roderich and his pastries for poisoning Basch. It must've been to dispel suspicion from himself; pin the blame on someone else. Feliks had no reason to suspect foul play in Basch's unseemly passing, but somehow, that notion had found its way into his brain. There was only one plausible explanation: Feliks could think of such an idea, only because he had carried it out.

Yes, that had to be it. That cowardly, scheming Pole! He was certainly responsible for Tolys' death. It made perfect sense. He killed him while both of them were outside, alone, without any witnesses, then made a complete racket outside their room and put on a good show of grieving. He had made up that story about forgetting something and leaving Tolys' side to make himself seem innocent. What a load of crap. That had to be the lousiest alibi Roderich had ever heard.

"W-What?" Feliks asked when Roderich turned back to him with fire in his eyes.

"You," Roderich answered coldly, annoyed at the nerve of Feliks to continue this wretched charade when he was too obviously at fault. Just like the girl had done. He wasn't going to be taken in by her childlike innocence, and anyone's, for that matter.

Feliks tilted his head in confusion. "T-That totally m-makes no sense."

_That totally makes no sense,_ a nasty voice in Roderich's mind mimicked.

Feliks hyperventilated as he choked on his sobs. His tears streamed down his face in a repugnant manner.

_Stop crying!_ Roderich screamed internally at Feliks.

His breath came in choppy gasps, and each exhale was a wheeze. All this time, the only thing he could think of was how much his heart hurt for the loss of his beloved.

_Tolys wouldn't want you to be sad._

That's right. He had to stay strong. Raising his head, Feliks tensed his muscles in a faint smile and looked right at Roderich.

Roderich's blood froze. _That smile._ His mind swam in a rage-filled haze, and without a second thought, raised his palm and swung it at Feliks' head.

There was a snap as flesh met flesh, then Feliks' eyes were on Roderich. But his eyes didn't look furious or accusing; rather, they seemed almost... Relieved. Then the lively spark left his eyes, leaving them dull and glassy.

Feliks' body lurched forward from the force of Roderich's slap. His chest tightened so much, the sob wouldn't even come anymore.

_I should have known they were the killers._

Kind, gentle Elizaveta and solemn, austere Roderich. They had hurt him. Feliks was right about Roderich and his poisoned pastries. That wilful fox.

First they killed off Basch. Basch had a sharp mind and a sharp tongue; he could be a threat to their plans. It was best that they get rid of him quickly.

Tolys – his love – was smart too. Feliks felt his gut twist. It wasn't painful – pain was what he was experiencing in his heart – but it gnawed at him in guilt. He should never have left Tolys alone, especially not in the direct line of fire of these sadists. It would've been too easy to just open the window and shoot Tolys from here.

Then there was himself. Feliks knew he wasn't bright enough to pose much of a danger to them, but perhaps he was just unlucky enough to walk right into the lion's den. He had practically sent himself to their doorstep on a silver platter.

Aggravation, indignation and desperation rose like bile within Feliks. Why had this happened to him? What had he done to deserve it?

A single tear rolled down his cheek and smeared the ground below his face.

Feliks took his last staggering breath, then his heart stopped entirely.

Roderich was immobilised for what seemed like years after that. He stared, slack-jawed, at his hand. He swore he hadn't used enough strength to kill, but Feliks' body said otherwise. _What have I done?!_

_You avenged their deaths, that's what,_ an arrogant voice at the back of his head declared. _You got rid of the murderer. You protected everyone._

Roderich stood up and backed right into an equally stunned Elizaveta. They faced each other and opened their mouths, but the words wouldn't come. There was nothing that could be said, nothing that would ease this situation. Roderich had killed someone. Sure, that someone was responsible for the deaths of two other people, but his blood was still on his hands.

"I... Saved us," Roderich mumbled weakly, more to reassure himself than to carry his point across. He did, didn't he? Now no one else would have to die in crazy Feliks' hands.

"W-We have to tell t-the others," Elizaveta stammered, running a hand through her sweaty hair restlessly.

"B-But... Feliks..." Roderich didn't look at Feliks. He had landed on the floor in a grotesque manner, his shrewd eyes still boring holes into them.

"What if we were to just toss his body out of the window? No one would have to know," Elizaveta drawled conspirationally.

It was such a sudden change from her earlier anxiety that Roderich's eyes snapped up to stare at her. His pale hands shook. What was he going to say to the others? That Feliks had died of natural causes, just as Tolys and Basch had?

"We're leaving tomorrow – no, today – Roderich." Elizaveta's voice cut through the numb, cottony fuzz surrounding his mind. Her calling him "Roderich" was a serious sign. "We'll leave this place for good, and no one will ever find out."

Tears prickled the back of Roderich's eyes. He had been so foolish, so simple-minded to think that eliminating the enemy would be simple. What would the others think if they knew? They certainly wouldn't revere him; they might abhor him for being a heartless killer. He might be thrown in jail. All this time he had wanted to be a moral citizen, and he had gone against all of his values.

_"Yeah, it's a pity that she died. She was so talented... She had a bright future ahead of her..." Roderich offered his condolences to the girl's parents, but none of it was heartfelt._

And Elizaveta! Why was she helping him? She was supposed to be a pure-hearted maiden!

Elizaveta piped up, "I love you, Roderich. I don't want you to get hurt."

Roderich took a few moments to realise he had whimpered out, "Why are you helping me?"

Now he clasped Elizaveta's hands within his own and kissed them softly.

"Thank you... Lizzie."

-o-

Only a moron would be able to sleep through that heinous scream.

And that moron was Alfred.

Arthur squinted at the sudden influx of light into his eyes. They hadn't switched the lights off at all. Alfred lay next to him, snoring like a pig. Arthur wondered what that scream had been. Could it be one of theirs?

His blood froze in his veins.

What if someone else was murdered?

Okay, where did that thought come from? There were no murderers here. Not at all. What would possess him to think that something like that was probable? Basch's death was uncalled for. Maybe he had suffered from cardiac arrest – drinking too much alcohol could have that effect on people sometimes. Or maybe it was a pure coincidence that his time was up at that exact moment. It was most definitely _not_ a murder.

All this brain-racking was killing his head. Arthur still felt a little hungover from all the drinks he had last night, and the details had been foggy, but the fact that Basch had died didn't elude him.

Arthur frowned at Alfred's figure next to him. Alfred was curled up in a foetal position, his face relaxed and a thin line of drool escaping from the side of his mouth.

The distinct scuffling from outside told Arthur what he didn't even need to see to know: It was raining. It was almost always raining in the United Kingdom, anyway. Well, to be precise, this was a thunderstorm. This rain was torrential, and the guttural rumbles from the sky resonated around him.

What time was it?

Arthur dug out his phone and pressed the home button to get the screen to light up.

3:26 a.m.

Arthur groaned. He couldn't remember what time he had gotten into bed, but it must've been not too long ago, judging by the sluggish way his brain was working. Who in the right mind would go about screaming at the top of their lungs at such ungodly hours?

Then again, there were some pretty unusual people here.

There was a soft crack coming from the other end of the house. Arthur figured it was someone else who had gotten up when the claps of thunder sounded. Maybe someone had tripped in the darkness. It was probably nothing important. The door was locked, and the both of them would be secure here. Ludwig would wake the both of them up when daybreak came.

At least, he hoped so.

Sleep beckoned to Arthur like a cup of warm tea, or a diabolical plan to shame Francis, and he gave in to his whims. He snuggled back into the sheets.

_Maybe if you hadn't given in to your whims all those years ago, you wouldn't be plagued by your conscience._

-o-

Ludwig awoke, yelling in agony thanks to Feliciano bouncing on his crotch. Ludwig flipped Feliciano off crossly.

"What do you want?" he demanded, trying not to think about the ache in his nether regions.

"I had a really scary dream!" Feliciano wept.

Ludwig arched his stiff back, feeling the bones crack satisfyingly. "So, what was the dream about? The world ran out of pasta?" he teased. Ludwig wasn't the type to joke around, but he felt Feliciano was ridiculous in a – dare he say it? – adorable way.

Feliciano snivelled, "That's awful! B-But no... I-I dreamt that everyone on the island died... A-And left me all alone..."

That wasn't the truth, but Feliciano didn't want Ludwig to know the real contents of his dream. It was actually the other way round. Feliciano had left all his friends when they needed him most.

It was so simple. Toss a grenade into the vehicle to stop it from moving, then release his friends.

Instead, Feliciano had ran.

He didn't know what become of his friends. He had never heard from them since.

"_Mein Gott_, Feliciano. We're leaving in..." Ludwig fumbled for his phone and looked at the time. "Four hours or so," he finished.

When Feliciano looked back at him dumbly, Ludwig sighed. "That means that you won't be left alone on the island, _dummkopf_." His insult was said with a smile, though, which softened its impact.

Feliciano thought Ludwig looked really handsome when his face wasn't marred by the creases between his eyebrows. Feliciano wiped his eyes with the back of his palms. "Y-Yeah... Thanks, Luddy!"

"Good. Now get off me."

Feliciano scrambled off with an expression akin to that of a playful puppy. Ludwig felt a muscle near his eye twitch.

"What?" Ludwig growled.

"I want you to give me your word," Feliciano said with more confidence than Ludwig had ever heard him.

"What? Oh, fine. I promise you I won't leave you alone," Ludwig muttered.

Feliciano was back on Ludwig's lap in seconds, and now he was plastered against the German. His face was buried in Ludwig's neck. Ludwig wrinkled his nose which was being prodded relentlessly by Feliciano's curl. What was that unruly lock of hair, anyway?

Biting back his embarrassment, Ludwig placed his arms on Feliciano's hips gingerly.

Feliciano stiffened and wriggled out of his grip, his eyes now open large enough to see the hazel colour of it, and he was gawking at Ludwig.

Ludwig felt like shouting. What the hell was the deal with Feliciano?

Feliciano tugged on Ludwig's arm. Ludwig got up begrudgingly, yet he felt a tad curious about what Feliciano wanted. Then Feliciano shoved him onto the bed and climbed onto the chair.

"Goodnight, Luddy," Feliciano whispered.

-o-

_"Aaaarghhhhh!"_

Gilbert's eyes flew open, recognising his brother's cry.

_Aw, shit. I was just about to fall asleep._

His memories had plagued him for the past ten minutes. He had been wild in the past, and he had definitely gone too far. He regretted his actions now. But the sweet aftertaste of victory still lingered in his mouth.

_"Come on, Gilbert!"_

_"Yeah, don't be a pussy."_

_Gilbert was no pussy. He detested being thought of as cowardly._

_"Okay, let's do it," Gilbert proclaimed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pullover to hide the fact that his hands were shaking._

_"That's the spirit!" His friend slapped him on the back._

_They had been given a job to annihilate a certain person. Apparently this person did awful things, unforgivable things, and his boss wanted him off the face of the Earth. Who better than to assign the task to than three new recruits who were eager to join the gang?_

_This was the reason Gilbert and two of his best friends were crouched in the shadows, watching their target as he skulked through the abandoned streets._

_"We have to do this. We won't be accepted until we prove ourselves."_

_Gilbert nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was scared. Would he be able to do such a thing?_

_He had no choice, though, when both his friends charged out and wrestled their target to the ground. Gilbert hurried after them. Seeing his opponent curled up on the ground whimpering caused something to snap within Gilbert. He soon lost himself in the flurry of kicks and punches. His mind blurred. This was power, sheer power, and he enjoyed the feeling of triumphing over someone._

_Then it was gone. His friend dragged him away, leaving the bloodied corpse behind, and they went into hiding._

_Gilbert hadn't exactly been the best role-model for his brother, and that was probably why Ludwig had done what he did when the members of the other gang came after him, seeking revenge._

He licked his lips, his mouth now too parched for him to go back to sleep. Furthermore, Gilbert feared that something might've happened to his brother. He inched towards the door, clutching the scissors once more. The door opened almost noiselessly, but even the slight _whoosh_ of air as it swung past made Gilbert's heart pump faster.

The hallway was bathed in light. He had to blink a few times to adjust to the sudden brightness.

Gilbert placed his foot outside the room, praying that the floorboards wouldn't creak. Nothing happened except for his foot landing firmly on the floor. He stole over to Ludwig's room and turned the doorknob.

The door was locked. It figured; Ludwig would never undermine his own safety. Gilbert smirked when he remembered that Feliciano had gone into the same room as Ludwig. Let the budding couple have their private time. It was now time to disturb the old couple, Roderich and Elizaveta.

He snuck past Ludwig's room. Here the hallway branched out – the staircase leading down to the main hall on the right, and the other rooms straight ahead. It was then Gilbert realised he had no business tiptoeing and slinking about as if he was some sort of spy, because there was no way he could ever hope to hide in this brightly-lit hallway. But that also meant that no one else could conceal themselves either.

Gilbert raised the scissors till the sharp end was directed outwards, then peered around the corner that led to the main hall. It was empty, the buffet trays covered up and the fires beneath them snuffed out.

His eyes skipped across the russet patch in the middle of the room and gulped noisily, then regretted it instantly. It was not because had he swallowed loud enough to wake the dead, nor was he scared or paranoid of the way Basch's head was turned his way...

Okay, okay. Gilbert was terrified. _Why didn't I think of shutting his eyes?!_

Gilbert quickly murmured a prayer to Basch's corpse, then slunk away to the right wing of the house. Gilbert didn't know which room Roderich and Elizaveta was in, so he figured he might as well try every room.

He flung open the first door on his right, only to be met with pitch-darkness. Slightly unsettled, he closed the door and tried the next one.

This door was harder to open, like something was pressing against it. Gilbert remained undaunted. It was all the more likely that Roderich and Elizaveta was in this room, then.

He threw his entire body weight against the door and it swung open with a disturbing scuffling sound.

Two figures, their faces slightly shadowed, jumped. The thought of "I wonder what they're doing up at this hour" was about to take shape in Gilbert's mind, then his scarlet eyes skimmed across the body on the floor.

For the first time in his life, Gilbert was at an utter loss for words. All he could do now was look at Feliks' crumpled form, then at Roderich and Elizaveta's terror-stricken faces, and back at Feliks. This cycle repeated itself for a good whole minute.

Gilbert's mind had completely shut down on him. He drew a blank when he tried – no, actually, he hadn't even _tried_ to think. It was like his brain got zapped into oblivion.

Elizaveta spoke first. "I-It's not what it l-looks like."

_What am I supposed to think? That Feliks casually decided to nap in your room? Not to mention he didn't move at all when the door slammed into him?_

"I... Feliks was the murderer, Gilbert. I saved us. _I saved us._ From _him_," Roderich stressed, but his voice became mournful and distant.

Gilbert opened his mouth, but no words came. Finally, he croaked, "Feliks... What?"

"Feliks killed Basch. Feliks killed Tolys. He's a complete looney, Gilbert!" Elizaveta cried.

"Feliks... Basch? Tolys? What?" Gilbert babbled. He realised he sounded extremely stupid, but that was exactly how he felt now. Nothing was clicking in his mind.

"Leave him," Elizaveta snarled, her brown curls bouncing as she snapped her head to the side to face Roderich. "He's an idiot."

Roderich's calm violet eyes landed on Gilbert once more. "I'll explain this to you when we get back."

"N-No. No. Tell me now. Why? What?" Gilbert implored.

Elizaveta sighed with exaggerated patience. "Feliks. Is. The. Murderer. Is that clear enough?"

That gay boy was the murderer? No, it wasn't possible. Wait, Elizaveta had mentioned Tolys. Speaking of him, where was he?

"Where's Tolys?" Gilbert blurted.

"You aren't listening!" Elizaveta raged. "We said he killed Tolys. See." She jerked a thumb towards the window.

Gilbert looked out, past the distortion that the rain was causing. "Um... Nice scenery?" he remarked dubiously.

"Huh?" Roderich followed Gilbert's gaze. The area was now empty, but pale copper rivulets still streamed out from the watery patch where Tolys had died.

"Shit, I think he fell," Elizaveta said. "See the blood? Tolys' body had been there just now. He probably fell over the edge of the cliff."

"Tolys?" Gilbert echoed. "And Feliks?"

"Feliks deserved it!" Roderich asseverated. "He snuffed out innocent lives, Gilbert."

"But... Why?" Gilbert felt his world spinning around him. Blood swirled about in his head, making him even dizzier.

"How would I know? Ask him!" Elizaveta exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. "Wait. Tell me, what do you think?"

Gilbert gaped at her. "Think about what? I don't understand! Are you saying this _boy_—" he enunciated the word sarcastically "—is a murderer?"

"Yes!" Elizaveta and Roderich shouted in unison.

"He killed Basch? And Tolys?" Gilbert clarified. He had just spoken to Tolys and Feliks mere minutes ago, and everything had seemed so... Normal.

"Oh my God, I always knew you were dumb, but not _that_ dumb," Elizaveta groaned.

"No, really! I can't believe you'd think Feliks is the murderer! How did you know?!" Gilbert cried.

"Feliks simply ran into our room after Tolys died. Isn't that suspicious enough?" Roderich answered.

Gilbert remembered the both of them had gone out together. Alone. "But... Feliks loved Tolys..." Gilbert said dumbly.

"No, he probably doesn't! You wouldn't kill someone you love!" Elizaveta retorted. Her and Roderich's eyes met for a split second.

Gilbert gripped the doorknob to steady himself so that he wouldn't hurl, and mostly because his legs felt like jelly. "How are you going to explain this to the others?"

"Simple. We just tell them Feliks was the murderer, and everyone can leave this island and go about the rest of our lives happily."

Gilbert stared at Elizaveta, who had spoken. This wasn't the Elizaveta he had known. Sure, Elizaveta could be brash at times, but she was never so wicked.

There could be more to her than meets the eye.

* * *

**Roderich did not kill Feliks with that mere slap. Feliks died of "broken heart syndrome". (Ha... Ha... It does occur, but rarely. Oh well, this is fiction, anything could happen.) Roderich was so stunned, he believed he killed Feliks. I feel like this chapter didn't exactly make sense, so if you guys have any feedback, please don't hesitate to tell me!**


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